


The Drunk Kaleidoscope

by TungstenCat



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/kaleid liner PRISMA ILLYA, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, F/M, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Multi, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-02-13 16:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TungstenCat/pseuds/TungstenCat
Summary: Scenes from Grail Wars that never were, and never should be. Go home, Kaleidoscope, you are drunk.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 70





	1. His Kingly Might

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Exstarsis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exstarsis/gifts).

> Occasionally my deranged mind throws up bits of crack when I should be working on my various stories, like an honest hack writer. Please consider this my attempt at giving them their own dubious jungle, so that they may leave my wilderness in peace.
> 
> Each chapter is a separate AU, none of them safe for sanity or life. And Tarsi, I've gifted this to you because this is all your fault. This would have stayed safely locked away in my files if not for your evil influence.

The woman’s skin was silver in the moonlight as she rested upon the reed mat, her limbs folded protectively over her nude form. Her features were finely chiseled, an elegant nose and full lips that did not belong on a simple merchant’s daughter. If not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, she could have been an exquisite statuette from his treasury, cunningly wrought by his best jewelsmiths.

Her dark eyes were wide as she looked up at him, small pinpricks of tears just visible at their corners. She unconsciously gnawed her lip in apprehension as he leaned over her, placing a hand on each side of her slender neck. The mat was rough against his palms, but her hair was silk wherever it brushed against him. He could breathe in her scent from here, a delicate sweetness underneath the earthy peasant smells that even a bath had not entirely wiped away. He could feel the familiar heat building in his belly, in his loins.  _ Oh yes _ , he smiled to himself.  _ Tonight, the king’s duty will also be a pleasure. _

“… my lord?” Her words ghosted in the air, scarcely more than a whisper.

She had taken fright at his silence, thinking she had committed some offence. He chuckled as he ran a finger through the sweet valley of her breasts, causing her breath to hitch sharply. As smooth as soft linen, which would have been far more appropriate to her than the coarse reeds. He made a mental note to have some sent to her husband.

For now, he fully intended to enjoy his claim. He trailed his hand down to rest on the soft curve of her belly. Tiny little hairs tickled at his skin, as soft as the down of a newly-hatched chick. “Be at ease, woman. I shall fill you with the king’s blessing, so that you may be as fertile as my fields. Lie back and accept it.”

“My husband…” she started, then moaned as his cunning fingers slipped down further, tangled themselves in the dark curls between her legs.

“Hush. You will have plenty of time with him later. For now, remember that first and foremost, you belong to me.”

He deftly worked his fingers inside her, caressing and teasing delicate flesh. Soon her pained grimace smoothed itself out, gave way to flushed cheeks and little mewls. She rocked with each motion of his hand, shuddered and pressed herself up against his palm like a flower seeking sunlight. Already his fingers were wet with her nectar, sweet and sticky in his skin. His beautiful subject, laid open and ready for him. He grinned as he lowered himself down, pressing himself into the slick heat of delicate folds –

– and jerked up in his bed with a strangled cry. Silk sheets slipped off Tokiomi to tangle themselves on the floor below. His chest was heaving, a cold sweat prickling his flushed face and neck. He could still smell reeds and perfume, still feel hot blood coursing through his straining cock. He looked wildly down at the bed next to him, half expecting to see the woman gazing back at him, her lips half-parted in a silent plea. Thankfully there was nothing, only the cold space left by Aoi’s absence.

He let his head fall back onto his pillow, taking several long breaths in an attempt to calm himself.  _ Only a dream _ , he told himself.  _ Masters are known to share dreams with their Servants, memories of their lives. And the King of Heroes was renowned for claiming  _ jus primae noctis  _ from his subjects. _

It was an accusation often levied against pagan rulers, part of an arsenal of alleged misdeeds meant to make them seem barbaric and cruel. All the better to justify the civilizing influence of the Christ child and his church. But it seemed that in Gilgamesh’s case, the claims held more than a hint of truth.

He sighed, considering whether to roll over and attempt to go back to bed. He was about to try when his erection twinged insistently against his thigh, hot and stiff. He cursed softly to himself. The Grail War was already underway, the Servants all summoned for their deadly dance. He desperately needed rest if he hoped to keep his head above the turbulent waters that threatened to engulf him and his legacy. So of course his body had decided that now was the time to rebel, as arrogant and demanding as the golden Archer he had pledged himself to.

He raised both hands to massage his forehead, an expression of frustration that never failed to make Aoi laugh and compare him to their eldest.  _ Aoi _ , he smiled. He really was blessed to have such a kind and beautiful wife, an angel in human guise. He knew that the life of a magus was difficult for her, the sacrifices and privations almost unbearable for her tender heart. He had spent hours reassuring her that sending their youngest to the Matou was for the best, that it would keep her safe while she developed her talents.

_ Aoi _ , he thought again, and pictured her shy fingers wrapped around his neck, her soft tresses trailing down her shoulders to brush against his chest. He felt heat growing in his belly again as she spread herself beneath him, shifting on the reed mat. Her dark eyes gazed lovingly up at him.  _ My lord Gilgamesh _ , she would say, as he slipped ins-

His eyes widened in sudden horror. No, impossible! Not his sweet, tender wife, not in that arrogant king’s embrace.

But the more he tried to sit back in bed and forget the unwelcome vision, the more it tormented him.

_ He wouldn’t dare _ . Oh yes, he would. He never missed an opportunity to proclaim that everything already belonged to him as king. He would not hesitate to impose a belated ‘blessing’ on a married woman if she struck his fancy.

_ She would never betray me _ . She wouldn’t have a choice, not with Gilgamesh’s blazing smile, coupled with the strength of his arms.

_ She’s safely far away, out of his grasp _ . He winced as he realized that was the weakest reason of all. Had the king not boasted of his many treasures? Of course he would have a steed capable of eating up the miles, some fantastical lion-pulled chariot or mystical barge.

He rolled over again, dragging up the sheets over himself, but he might as well have been lying on a bed of needles for all the comfort it offered him. Every time he closed his eyes, terrible images swam before him. Aoi, gasping and panting as Gilgamesh pulled her down on top of him. His hands on her full breasts, swaying with every vigorous thrust from below. The flush in her cheeks, the adoration in her eyes, as she forgot all about him in the golden king’s cruel embrace.

He huffed angrily as he swung out of bed. Sleep was clearly impossible tonight. He might as well get up and find something productive to do.

He slipped on his dressing gown and slippers, cursing the way they slid against his skin like warm fingers. He really had been badly affected, if even inanimate cloth could pull such a reaction from him. He closed his eyes and forced himself to picture Matou Zouken in a state of undress, his pale wrinkled flesh exposed to the sun. It was an extremely undignified thought, not to mention disgusting enough to make him gag, but it had the desired effect. His erection softened and retreated, allowing him to tuck it carefully back in his briefs.

_ Good _ . Now he could have an early breakfast and set himself to the day’s tasks. Hot green tea would flood away the accursed dream and all the uncomfortable visions it had brought him.

He opened his door and padded down the carpeted hallway towards the kitchen. As he walked silently along, he saw a sliver of light from beneath the closed door of his living room. He frowned, but forced himself to relax as he remembered it was probably Gilgamesh. Servants did not sleep, so the king was probably lounging around in there. Drinking the rest of his best wine, no doubt.

_ Better the wine than Aoi _ . He flinched as the thought rose up unbidden, then shoved it down as hard as he could.  _ Elegance _ , Tokiomi, he told himself. _ Dignity. The heir of Tohsaka does not give into fits of petty jealousy, especially when there is no reason to think anything untoward is occurring. Leave him be and get your breakfast. _

He had scarcely taken three steps when a sudden feminine moan echoed from behind the door. He jerked to a sudden stop. He found himself helplessly drawn towards the door, a puppet pulled stiffly on invisible strings. And now he could hear heavy breathing and wet smacking sounds.

His mind was immediately pulled back to his dream, the King of Heroes descending upon his prey, to conquer and possess. But this time it was definitely Aoi ‘s flesh he was grasping greedily with strong fingers.

“P… please…” came a voice from the living room, soft as the wind blowing through papyrus on an ancient shore, but unmistakably there. In his fevered mind, Tokiomi could hear it only as his wife’s gentle tones calling out to another. “Please… harder!”

“Hmmph - ! So greedy. Very well then, mongrel! Lift your hips up.” The rich baritone was only too familiar, even through his grunts and gasps.

“Ahhhh! Yes, please yes –“

Dark jealousy shot through Tokiomi’s brain, coursing through his limbs to push him into action before his rational mind had a chance to catch up. Heedless of the danger, he grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. His command seals itched on the back of his hand, screaming at him to throw his insolent Servant off his wife and under his foot, whatever it might do to his chances in the War.

He opened his mouth to yell something – a command, a curse, he wasn’t quite sure what – but stiffened in shock at the scene that confronted him.

Assassin was spread out on his living room table, dark limbs splayed out and partly hanging off the service. Purple hair fanned out all around her, shimmering like silk. Her dark shroud and leggings laid forgotten on the floor, though her white skull-mask was still firmly in place. It did little to stifle her moans and pleas as Gilgamesh pounded into her, snapping their hips together in a punishing rhythm.

Frozen in shock, Tokiomi could only stare at the lewd performance taking place in his formerly pristine living room. The slap of bodies together, the powerful scent of musk, the little cries and pleasured grunts – all of it was fire racing along his nerves, grabbing his cock with burning fingers until it was at full flag again.

He wrenched his eyes away, his face hot with mortification, then flinched when he finally took in the rest of his living room. Assassin’s cohorts were draped over seemingly every piece of furniture, every bit of spare carpet. All of them naked and as relaxed as if they were boneless, each with a look of satisfied bliss on their lips. Near the window, he could see dozens more, still dressed in their dark robes. They watched the fevered coupling on the table with open hunger as they awaited their turn. A little further, Kirei sat in an armchair, flipping the pages of his Bible. His face was entirely blank, completely indifferent to the debauchery surrounding them.

“Ahh, Tokiomi,” said Gilgamesh, drawing the magus’ eyes back to his sweat-slicked figure. “Have you finally decided to move, mongrel? Or will you further – hah! - waste your king’s time?” He kept thrusting as he spoke, barely glancing at his designated Master.

“I… uh…” muttered Tokiomi. He needed to say something to appease his king, anything,but his mind felt wrapped in cotton gauze for all the clarity he could manage. If only his treacherous body would stop reacting!

Gilgamesh only smirked. “Imagining myself gracing your wife, mongrel? Hah!” Another powerful thrust, another gasping plea from the Assassin under him. “Do not imagine that the degraded mortals of this age could interest the King!”

He grabbed the other Servant around the waist, hauling them both up until she was upright on the table before him. The vertical position allowed him to pull down on her hips, impaling her fully on his shaft. She bit back a sharp cry and flung her arms around his neck. Even from the doorway, Tokiomi could see her nails raking over the king’s back, leaving scratches in their wake.  _ Would he punish her for them later, or treat it as tribute? _ thought Tokiomi numbly to himself, unable to look away from the spectacle.

“Only the greatest of heroes are worthy of warming the king’s bed!” crowed Gilgamesh. “And they shall be honoured to do so. Watch, Tokiomi. I shall win your war with the mightiest weapon in my arsenal.” He stiffened, then roared as he thrust frantically into Assassin, red eyes shining with his release. “Not even – ngh! – not even Ea can compare!”

Tokiomi watched in numb horror as Gilgamesh finally climbed off, leaving his pearly seed dripping from between the other Servant’s legs.  _ My table _ , he thought distantly,  _ will that stain ever come off the wood? _

“Rejoice, Master,” said a deep voice from his side. Wordlessly, Tokiomi swivelled until he met the eyes of his recent apprentice. For the first time since he had met the young priest, there was a glimmer of life in those cold black orbs.

Kirei smiled. “Your victory shall be the talk of the Association for years to come.”

_ That might very well be true _ , despaired Tokiomi as he helplessly watched the next Assassin take his place on his poor furniture.

* * *

“Come, King of Conquerors!" the golden Servant challenged, arrogance dripping from his smirk. "Let us settle this with the only weapon that truly matters!"

Tokiomi watched as the massive warrior stepped out from his Chariot, the ground shaking with every footstep. Behind him, a boy - tiny as a kitten standing in a lion's shadow - yelled after him with outrage that poorly masked his anxiety.

"How is wrestling supposed to prove kingship?" he called after his Servant. "Just trample him with - mouh, Rider, listen to me!"

"This is a test no warrior can refuse, boy! It is as much a battle as my fiercest armies clashing with the enemy." He grinned as he turned back, his red mantle billowing around him. "Now watch and learn how a king rides!"

Tokiomi couldn't stop his eyebrow from twitching. The boy was apparently some rogue student ofLord El-Melloi's, hardly worth his attention. But although he was a magus first and foremost, he was also a parent.

That was why he found himself marching smartly across the field towards the chariot, ignoring the sounds of tearing cloth and grunts that erupted behind him. Laughter from two voices, one as bold and sharp as cutting glass, the other a low rumble that reverberated with the very hillsides.

“Good, you got his armor! Now just - hey!" yelled the boy as the older magus firmly covered his eyes, his hand pressed tightly against the boy's face. "What do you think you're doing? Let me go!"

"You don't need to see this, son," grimaced Tokiomi as clashing metal gave way to the sound of hands and knees scuffling in the dirt. "Trust me."

The boy shoved his hand into his pocket, but the older magus never learnt what weapon he had meant to attack with. Curses and grunts gave way to a low groaning. Then hard but triumphant panting, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. He winced, already far more familiar with that particular sound than he'd ever wanted to be.

"Rider? Rider, what's going on?" called the boy, struggling fiercely to throw off Tokiomi's grip. He grit his teeth and held on tightly, even when teeth sunk into the meat of his hand, in the webbing between thumb and index finger.  _ Elegance, dignity _ . That was the Tohsaka creed, which demanded that he protect callow youth from the hedonistic scene unfolding before them.

“Ahah!" roared Rider from the ground. "Harder, King of Heroes! If I'm to be conquered, give me a new dream to keep me company!"

"What — ? Are we losing? Let go!"

"Certainly not," said Tokiomi, even as he dreaded what his own dreams would contain every night following this.  _ The Root _ , he reminded himself.  _ Reaching the Root will make everything worth it. _

But watching the debauchery occurring on the ground, the sway of heated bodies and his Servant's infuriatingly smug grin between his gasps of exertion, for the first time in his tightly controlled life Tokiomi felt doubt creeping up on him.

* * *

“Gráinne… ngh! … I’m sorry! I never realized what it was to f-fall under a love spell.”

“Quiet, mongrel. Think only of your king when you are in his embrace.”

Tokiomi winced as he watch Gilgamesh dig his fingers a little more tightly into Lancer’s slim hips, holding him in place for his powerful thrusts. The grip looked hard enough to leave bruises, even in a body made of solidified mana. He had him bent over the dockside railings, the metal creaking and groaning with their vigorous coupling.

Lancer panted and gasped as his body shook like a reed in the hurricane’s grasp, his face flushed a deep pink. He looked over his shoulder to glare at golden Servant.

“Curse you, Archer – ngh! I’ll never forsake my lord!”

The golden Servant didn’t so much as slow his pace. “Can you really say that, when you respond so beautifully to my every touch? At least your body shows its fealty to me, even if your mouth needs another lesson.”

“Guh…! So good. I can’t – Master, forgive me…”

Tokiomi tore his eyes away from the sight, before the fire building in his belly had a chance to overthrow. But even facing away, he was still assaulted by the echoes of gasping breaths, visions of muscular bodies gleaming with sweat and exertion.

He could feel unexpected and very unwanted stirrings from his nether regions. He had never before questioned his sexuality – he was very fond of sweet, tender Aoi, both inside and outside the bedroom – but something about those toned stomachs and wiry muscles, the primal assertion of dominance, spoke to something in his animal brain.

The same brain that seemed hellbent on conjuring disturbing dreams, ever since the night of Rider’s defeat. Always the king’s face hovered above him, golden blonde hair the colour of wild honey and burning scarlet eyes. But instead of the contempt with which they usually regarded him, they had been full of hunger. The same hunger that passed over the man’s face as he flicked his tongue over sensuous lips –

Another twitch from below, stronger this time.

_ No _ , he said sternly to himself.  _ Elegance and dignity _ . That was the Tohsaka creed, the one he would maintain and impart to his heir. Starting by making sure that she never learned just how her father had won the Grail War.

He banished the hazy cloud of shame and embarrassment that threatened to fall over him, and make his cheeks redder still. All things were acceptable in pursuit of the Root. Had he not held it as self-evident from his tenderest youth? It was a lesson he had learned seated on his beautiful mother’s knees.  _ Only the results matter, and close your eyes to the methods _ . That was the way of magi, especially when such a valuable prize was within grasp. And she would know, having once fought and killed for that same prize.

Now if only this particular method wasn’t threatening to tear down so much of what he thought he knew about himself.

“Tohsaka! What is the meaning of this?!”

Tokiomi whirled towards the thin, almost nasal voice. A man was approaching him, small blue eyes narrowed in a scowl. He had close-cropped blonde hair, swept back from his forehead and looking all the paler compared to his heavy black coat. Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald.

The Japanese magus couldn’t help but smile. For all the danger that El-Melloi represented as the chosen agent of the Clocktower and a magus of formidable blood potency, there was very little that was physically attractive about the man. He provided a most satisfactory dampening for the feelings in –

_ I did not just think that. _ Tokiomi shook his head.  _ Elegance. Dignity. Come on, man, get a grip on yourself. _

He took a deep breath, then forced himself to nod at his rival Master.

“Lord El-Melloi. Good evening.”

“Don’t you ‘good evening’ me! Look at that… that barbarity that your Servant is committing upon mine!”

“We are at war. Surely you don’t expect me to hold back?”

“There are… there are still standards! I might have expected this sort of low tactic from the Magus Killer, or even my idiot student. You are supposed to be from one of the founding families! And here I catch you acting as a … a common whoremonger!”

Tokiomi opened his mouth to respond when a particularly loud moan resounded behind him, flowing over him with currents of heat and arousal.  _ Elegance, dignity _ , he repeated desperately to himself, even as he felt his erection press insistently against his briefs.

At least Kayneth also seemed to have been distracted. And judging from the horrified look on his face, Tokiomi could probably count himself lucky that he was facing away from the carnal scene.

“Higher, mongrel! Present yourself fully!” Gilgamesh’s rich voice floated over to them, poisoned honey that threatened to set the Tohsaka head’s blood aflame all over again. All the mental ice in his upbringing melted in its wake.

After a moment, Kayneth finally managed to look away. His clenched fist trembled with anger. “It’s that Velvet boy’s fault,” he said in a low choking voice. “If I’d had the mantle of Iskandar, this would not be happening. He wouldn’t bend over to the enemy.”

Tokiomi couldn’t stop the strangled cough that erupted from his throat as a memory of the other day lurched up from his fevered brain - Rider flat on his back, pulling at Gilgamesh’s arms as he howled his climax. Great, it had haunted his dreams and now clearly God had decided it would haunt his waking moments too.

Kayneth’s glare said he had misunderstood the source of his sudden fit. “Do you find something amusing about this, Tohsaka?”

“No, of course not –“

“I can always stop your … pervert of a Servant by doing away with his Master!”

The man held out his hand, which swiftly became encased in silver tendrils of flowing liquid. It oozed onto the ground into a flat puddle, a metallic mirror that reflected the dismal dockside in its rippling surface. Then it shuddered and leapt up into the air, forming an ominous sphere hovering behind Kayneth’s shoulder.

_ Volumens Hydrargyrum _ , the fabled Mystic Code of the El-Melloi. The clear threat cut through the jumble of Tokiomi’s tangled thoughts. He was in serious trouble now, and his Servant far too… preoccupied to help him. But as outmatched as he might be, he would at least go down fighting, as befitted the heir of the Kaleidoscope. He raised his staff as the ruby tip began glowing with fierce energy, and he had to hope his fire would be hot enough to burn through that unnatural mercury –

A sudden flash of light and a loud whir of shutters made him almost drop his weapon.

“Good, now the other side!” called a light, sweet feminine voice.

Tokiomi braced himself for an attack, but nothing happened. No, if anything the pressure was relieved, for Kayneth was now staring open-mouthed towards the side. He felt his eyes drawn irresistibly in the same direction.

A pretty woman with shoulder-length red hair was moving around the Servants still locked in intimate embrace, camera firmly held in her hands. Every few moments she would pause and snap a few more pictures. Her cheeks were flushed a maidenly red, but her eyes were dark with hunger.

“Sola-Ui, no!” cried Kayneth in a strangled voice.

Tokiomi took advantage of the distraction to make a run for it, his staff clattering awkwardly against the pavement as he dragged it along.  _ Elegance and dignity be damned! _

* * *

“OOOOoooh! This is the embodiment of sacrilege, an act against every holy command! To commit such an act with the symbol of the pagans — ”

“Speak not of gods, mongrel. There are far better uses for your mouth.” 

There was a shuffle, then the obscene wet sounds of lips hard at work. Tokiomi resolutely stated at the broken bricks of the underground lair, his nostrils filled with damp and the lingering smell of rotting blood. Whatever dubious pleasure he might have taken from his Servant's... previous activities with first Rider and then Lancer, there was not a drop to be had here. Not only was Caster easily the most disturbing man Tokiomi had ever met, in demeanour as well as appearance, something about both the enemy and their surroundings made him feel unbearably filthy. Beyond even the dust and darkness swirling about him, there was something spiritually sick here. Something that made him want to rush home to scrub his flesh under hot soap and water, to the point of rawness.

“Big guy!” called the young man next to him. An unremarkable youth in both appearance and aura, he nevertheless appeared to be the enemy Master. But where the Velvet boy had at least known to treat Tokiomi with caution, this one seemed entirely indifferent to his presence, despite the menacing glow of the Tohsaka crest. Was it bravery or stupidity? Something else entirely? 

Any thought Tokiomi might have wanted to bring to bear on the situation dissolved in the sharp intake of breath from the golden king beside him, and a renewed chorus of wet squelching noises.

“Big guy, I don't really mind if you want to take a break,” said the enemy with a frown, “But we're going to need to go looking for new flowers soon. The ones in the back have already wilted.”

_ Flowers? What is he...? _ Tokiomi looked towards the back wall, where the dark mouth of an open cave stared back at him. Too dark to see, unless... his crest flared a little brighter as he cast the spell of Reinforcement on his eyes, then looked deeper into the shadows. 

There was a long silence, during which nothing could be heard but harsh panting from the Servants. Then Tokiomi's staff burst into flames as he fell upon the other Master, his eyes blazing with disgust and fury.

And when they finally returned to the surface world, with the fresh scent of rain droplets and scattered sunlight on his face, Tokiomi found himself rifling through his memories to summon up recent scenes he had meant to bury forever. He thought of Gilgamesh, his gauntlets planted on Lancer's shoulders; on Rider's; on Assassin's. Anything but what they had just left in those tortured tunnels beneath their feet.

* * *

“Grrhhhrrhg! Hrrrgh!”

“Fuhahaha, mongrel! Did you think to conquer the king by turning his own nightly instruments against him? Even corrupted by your touch, they still respond to my call.” 

“Wrrrgghhhhh!”

Tokiomi leaned against the stone wall and looked resolutely away as Gilgamesh's uproarious laughter echoed in the empty church. Every time he thought he had grown jaded to his Servant's perversions, the golden Archer managed to surprise him. In this case, the unforeseen had come in the form of a... well, a sex aid, there were really no other words for it. A polished shaft of cerulean crystal that shone brilliantly even in the weak light of the moon. That maintained its purity even as it drained the dark mist enshrouding Berserker, tendrils of darkness pouring into its facets and simply vanishing. 

That so much power could be contained in so lewd an object might once have offended the Tohsaka magus' sensibilities, but he was long past that now. Not after everything he had been forced to witness in this harrowing conflict.

Even watching the raging beast grab the crystal rod, his dark anger running up the surface like veins in broken marble, had barely made him raise an eyebrow. A frightening power to behold, but what did it matter in a world where everything could be turned upside down by a golden king's imperious smirk? Where even the fiercest warrior would kneel before him to receive his blessing of flesh?

“Very good, mongrel! Let me demonstrate its proper use!”

“GRRRNNHH!”

“Fuhahaha! This is what it means to rule!”

Tokiomi shuddered and moved a little bit away, hoping to put some distance between himself and his Servant's current conquest. He had taken only a few steps before a hand roughly grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

“Tokiomi!” growled his assailant, stepping forward until they were almost face to face. “Finally I've got you, you bastard!”

The Tohsaka head found himself staring into an emaciated face, one that wept suffering from every hollowed crease. A vein stood out in sharp contrast on his left cheek, throbbing obscenely under the pale skin. His eyes were an unnaturally pale white, the colour of hatching maggots, and yet they burned with rage as they stared at him.

“I've endured all this pain, just for this moment,” the man rasped. “Endured endured endured!”

Tokiomi blinked, and the man's features, elegant and well-formed under his mask of pain, slid into place. Kariya Matou, his counterpart among the three families and his one-time rival for Aoi's hand. 

He had long despised the man for his weakness, his lack of honour. His cowardly shirking of the heavy burden imposed upon all of magus blood. But even in his most scornful thoughts, he had never wanted wished true ill upon the man. Certainly nothing like the horror that confronted him now.

And to think the man had once been so handsome... 

Tokiomi winced.  _ Please, no. My life is complicated enough already. I do not need to start picturing Matou with the spring breeze blowing through his hair as he smiles at ... damn it. _

“Don't you dare look away, you asshole! I'm going to show you exactly what you've done!”

He grabbed the collar of Tokiomi's shirt, shaking him so hard he thought he might choke. For all his skin-crawling appearance, Kariya's grip was certainly strong. Much stronger than it should have been, considering the strain of supporting a Berserker -

“AARRH! Graaaggh!”

“That's right, mongrel! There is no beast I cannot tame, fuhahaha! Now accept my seed!”

\- unless he was getting mana from another source. Tokiomi found his eyes straying towards the golden Archer riding precariously behind a muscular man, black pieces of armor scattered about their feet. His fists spasmed in Berserker's dark locks as he rode out his release.

It was even possible that some of the mana being pumped into Berserker's form might be flowing back into his Master, equalizing the burden between them. Which meant that Gilgamesh was supporting Kariya, even if unintentionally. And given where the Archer was drawing his supplies from...

Tokiomi was sharing his mana with Kariya. 

He should have been horrified, but instead he found himself strangely pleased by the thought. There was a certain feeling of power there, of domination. It may not have been the way set out in the traditions of the Magus Association, but it was a form of conquest all the same.

His head was suddenly snapped forward as Kariya shook him again, so hard Tokiomi swore he could feel his teeth rattle in their sockets.

“Are you even listening to me? What the hell is in that corrupted mind of yours?”

An image suddenly flashed in Tokiomi's mind, a picnic on a hillside. They were all young, still in the first blush of youth and friendship. He was climbing a tree to pick the peaches on a high branch, throwing the fruit down so Aoi could catch them in an impromptu basket made of her skirt. And Kariya stood by, laughing as the Tohsaka complained that his pants were torn through the knees from the rough bark. Laughter without malice, time spent without recrimination. 

Perhaps in another life, Tokiomi might have chosen more wisely. He could have had them both, instead of taking Aoi away and leaving Kariya alone on the hillside, his eyes heavy with a desperate loneliness.

Maybe it still wasn't too late. Certainly a triple bed would be difficult to maneuver through the Tohsaka manor, but with a little effort -

He sighed and reached up to pat Kariya's hand, smiling wryly at the look of astonishment in the other man's eyes.

“It would only redouble your conviction to kill me if I told you.”

* * *

“No,” said Saber firmly.

Tokiomi stiffened in surprise as Gilgamesh huffed his indignation. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Do you not understand the great honour I am bestowing upon you, woman?” He passed a hand over his naked form, lingering more than necessary on the muscled planes of his abdomen.

“Your proposal,” said the blonde, green eyes flashing with ire, “is both dishonourable and distasteful. We are warriors engaged in a sacred battle, not brutes in a brothel.”

She stepped back into a combat stance, her hands closing on the hilt of an invisible blade. Wind swirled around her, lifting her hair and dress in a fluttering dance.

“Now draw your sword. Your proper sword,” she specified, scowling at Gilgamesh’s suggestive waggle of hips, “lest I lop that one off.”

The affronted look on the Archer’s face was a thing of beauty, one that Tokiomi might have appreciated more if his shoulders weren’t sagging in relief.  _ Oh thank God _ . He wasn’t sure what protected Saber from the King of Heroes’ uncanny charms, but he was grateful for it. Now the War could get back on track, fought through bloody but dignified duels as the ancestors had intended. And Tokiomi would no longer have to content with the increasingly tangled mess of emotions and desires that threatened to swallow him up, magecraft and all.

He would have rushed forward and pumped Saber’s hands in gratitude, had he not known that she would misinterpret it as an attack.

Golden dust shimmered around Gilgamesh’s body, coalescing into his shining armor. The Archer paid it little heed in favour of gazing at the enemy Servant, his brows furrowed in thought.

Then he grinned, as ferocious as any lion on the prowl. “Very well. Let our indolent ‘Masters’ take our places. Let them work for their prize themselves, for once.”

Tokiomi stared blankly as he tried to make sense of what his Servant had just suggested. Masters fought alongside their champions as a matter of course, so this had to be more than a simple invitation to battle. Perhaps Gilgamesh meant for both Servants to stand aside, so that this conflict would be resolved through a magus duel? But from the devil’s smirk on Archer’s face and the suggestive motion of his hands, he was certain that Gilgamesh had a very specific form of duel in mind.

Saber seemed to have reached the same conclusion, for she placed herself firmly before the Einzbern master. “Never!” she shouted, her voice a challenging bell hanging in the dark forest. “I won’t let you touch Irisviel!”

“Not that doll,” said Gilgamesh with a dismissive wave. “Your true master.”

Before Tokiomi could ask, he heard a sharp scuffle in the surrounding greenery. A few moments later, two men made their way into the clearing, each glaring at each other. Kirei was only too familiar, as was the sight of Black Keys held between his fingers like cruel claws. The sight of him was disquieting – he had instructed his apprentice to stand guard back at the manor – and Tokiomi resolved to look into the matter later.

The other man had a gun trained on the priest, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. He was tall and gaunt, with dark hair and eyes as hard and brittle as slate. Tokiomi had seen his photograph in too many intelligence reports not to recognize him as Emiya Kiritsugu, the infamous Magus Killer. He felt a shiver of fear crawl down his spine as he remembered the countless names, magi even more powerful and accomplished than himself, that had found their end on the other side of this assassin’s gun. The dread persisted even though Emiya’s attention was largely focused on Kirei, his body coiled with tension while his eyes watched the Executor’s every step with suspicion.

“Well, mongrel?” asked Gilgamesh, his mouth a crescent of cruel mirth.

Emiya looked impassively around the clearing, taking clear note of all the combatants gathered there. His eyes passed quickly over the Einzbern woman, enough to fool most with their mask of indifference. But Tokiomi was no stranger to love, for all the harshness of the life he had imposed on himself and his family. He instinctively recognized the softening of the gaze as it rested on her soft white hair and quiet dignity.

Then it was gone, and Emiya was staring hard at the smirking Archer before him. After a moment, he nodded. “I am willing to do anything to obtain the Grail. I accept.”

He reached for the waistband of his trousers and tugged them down.

Gilgamesh threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Very good!” He turned towards Tokiomi, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Do your king proud, Tokiomi.”

Tokiomi felt like laughing in turn. In the face of a world gone irrevocably mad, what else could he do? And, he was surprised to note, some strange and alien part of him welcomed this. Welcomed the chance to slip the leash that had been tied on him since his earliest childhood, the prim and proper leash of the dignified magus. A bond made of gold, but a bond nonetheless. What might it feel like, to cast it away?

So he smiled as he began undoing his tie. “As you wish, my lord.”

And for the first time since that golden figure had appeared on the cold stone circle in his basement, he saw approval shine in those crimson eyes.


	2. The Joy of Gardening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auguste has spent centuries carefully tending to the Edelfelt line, ensuring it brings forth the most vibrant of roses. With his lady now approaching her full bloom, the time has come to put his shears to work once again.

Auguste turned off the tap with a graceful flourish of the wrist. He then took a step back on the polished marble floor and bowed, the suvine cotton towel hanging neatly from his arm.

“Your bath is prepared, my lady.”

Elegant feet moved gracefully across the floor, naked skin whispering like silk against the tiles. He waited patiently as a slender finger descended into the steaming water, slowly traced a slow circle in the lavender-scented foam.

“Thank you, Auguste,” said his lady, pleasure bubbling underneath her cultivated tone. “Exactly the correct temperature, as always. You are a credit to your profession.”

“It is kind of you to say so, my lady.”

He stepped away towards the mounted shelf of green-veined marble, with its pristinely organized array of gold-backed bath brushes and sweet-smelling lotions. Behind him, he heard a splash of water, followed by a long blissful sigh.

“Mmmm.” His lady murmured her appreciation as she melted into the hot water. He smiled fondly as he imagined the foam lapping just over under nose, so she could fully breathe in the wisps of steam and perfume. It was a habit she had maintained since her tenderest years, even as the rest of her had blossomed and sharpened.

“Truly splendid,” she said, her voice bold and clear above the gentle lapping of little waves as she settled herself fully into the tub, her bare shoulders resting comfortably against the high porcelain sides. “I am glad I named you my bath attendant while Miyu is at the concert. Why, if I had left it up to that barbarian, she would doubtless have filled it with ice water.” She laughed scornfully as she accepted the brush that Auguste offered her. “As if I didn’t know to expect such treachery from her!”

He resumed his position a few paces away from the tub; far enough to give his lady space, but close enough to be at hand should she require anything. He allowed himself a pleased smile as he watched her scrub her long sculpted legs with an exfoliant jelly, leaving the white skin smooth as the finest of satins. A lesser woman might have been embarrassed to have her butler attend to her in the bath, but never his lady. She had the confidence of a true aristocrat, comfortable in both her skin and her pride. Even if Auguste has truly been human, instead of merely wearing the form, he had little doubt she would have been just as relaxed in the steaming water, her head tilted at the same haughty angle.

He let his eyes discreetly sweep over her form, half-concealed under rainbow bubbles but still perfectly clear to his expert appraisal. She was a work of art, from her glorious golden curls to the tips of her elegant toes. Her generous breasts captured the eye and held it tight in their sweet valley, before releasing it to wander down the toned surface of her stomach to the well-formed curves of her hips. All of it was wrapped in soft creamy skin, now flushed an attractive pink from the heat of her bath. She was a composition worthy of hanging in the most esteemed halls of the Louvre, if her honed beauty could have ever been captured in a still image. But she was far better as a living, breathing masterpiece, glowing with vigour and arrogance.

It could have been no other way, for she was the pinnacle of generations of careful breeding. Auguste had overseen it himself since his summoning over three hundred years ago, shaping the Edelfelt line as a gardener pruned his prize roses.

Oh, never through anything as crude as a love spell. He preferred to practice his art through subtle application of his shears. A missing letter here, a convenient snowstorm there. Just enough to nudge the scales of fate in a direction where hearts might be a little more tender, or lust overcome judgment for a few crucial hours.

“Fufu, I wonder what task I should set her next,” giggled his lady in her silvered voice. “Perhaps I should make her freshen up my bedroom, so she might see the luxuries enjoyed by her betters? Yes. She can think of m… them while she curls up in her hovel at night.”

A deeper flush played on her face, bringing the skin from light pink to a deeper shade approaching red. No doubt she would attribute it to a particularly hot curl of steam if it were pointed out to her.

Auguste allowed himself a small smile as he watched her apply a soft cloth to her arms, smooth skin that belied the athletic musculature beneath. Yes, he was very satisfied. She was the pride of his garden, a blossom of vibrant pink that flourished under storm and drought. He had not raised a delicate wilting flower, and he would ensure that her line remained free of such.

She hummed dreamily to herself, raising one shapely leg out of the bath to let small droplets fall into the scented water. He merely tugged at the towel on his arm, straightening each fold until it was crisp and even, as he let his mind wander a short distance from his task.

It was time he seriously considered which cutting he should graft to his precious rose bush if he wanted to ensure another healthy generation of queenly blooms. His lady was perhaps young, but she was a lusty woman, full of appetites. As her devoted butler, it was his duty to find a suitable dish with which she could sate herself.

“Mmmm, or perhaps I should have her do my laundry. How humiliating, to handle her bitter rival’s underwear! She’ll dream of tearing it apart, but she won’t dare. Not so long as I hold her debt over her head. Ohohohoho!”

_Lord El-Melloi the Second, perhaps_? A violet of the deepest purple, fading to midnight blue. _No_, he dismissed the thought after some consideration. His chest was too broad, his shoulders too heavy, to synergize well with his lady’s bosom. The resulting bud would look out of balance. Then there was the matter of his poor magic circuits, an impediment that even the brilliant Edelfelt Crest might be unable to fully compensate for. _No. However brilliant his mind, he unfortunately does not suit. _A pity, but Auguste had long since learned to prey upon what was, rather than what could have been.

“She won’t be able to help compare herself to my much more generous assets, poor thing!” laughed his lady merrily, giving the bubbles a delighted little kick. “Oh, how she’ll rage! The flash in her eyes, that little tremble her bottom lip always does when she is about to lose to her temper. Mmmm, yes.”

_Young master Emiya? _An edelweiss, full of courage and tenacity despite its short life, power hidden under an easily-overlooked white bloom. Auguste had come very close to deciding on the boy, especially given his lady’s open infatuation with him. He had good shoulders and a very pleasant face, one that would complement his lady’s high brows and full lips.

There had been much to recommend him. A wealth of inborn strength and talent, hidden under the veneer of a hapless family son. A strong body and a strong mind, shining ore that might be soft where it rested easy, but that could readily be tempered to hard steel with a little work and pressure applied at the right spot. _And nobility of character, oh yes_. Master Emiya would sacrifice even the last breath under his ribs if he thought it might save someone.

And there was the problem, the reason the boy was fundamentally unsuitable for his mistress. Nobility was essential to a proper aristocrat, but not to the point of self-destruction. Auguste needed someone with a healthy streak of selfishness, enough to place his and his family’s needs first if he were forced to make a choice. Emiya would not to well in the world of magi, which had to be navigated with grace and courage, but also a capacity for ruthlessless. The boy’s guileless altruism was admirable, but also dangerous. Auguste would not match his lady to someone who would get himself killed or worse, and leave her mourning helplessly through the cold winter nights.

From the shallow perspective of aesthetics, there was also the matter of the boy’s hair. A redheaded Edelfelt would never do.

_Who else then?_ Auguste regretted being tied to the mansion at times. Although he was pleased to serve his lady in her every need, it did limit his ability to assess potential candidates for his garden. Perhaps he would need to wait for their return to England -

“Poor Rin! So flat she would have been better off as a man,” said his lady, cutting through his thoughts. Her smile was her usual practiced scorn, a look she had perfected in long hours before the mirror as a young girl. But the flush had deepened further, and there was a certain wistfulness in that honeyed gaze.

_Ah_. _The tiger lily_. He must be losing his touch, if he needed his lady’s unconscious prompt to see such an obvious solution. Auguste turned the idea over in his head, chewing it experimentally as the bone began to take on flavour. The girl’s lineage might not be ideal but it was far from unacceptable, whatever his lady’s smirking declarations to the contrary. A good heart, wrapped in a suitable layer of armor. And in terms of attraction, he had plenty to work with. The roots were already half planted, they just needed a little pushing and trimming until they would naturally grow intermeshed.

He would however need to make arrangements to bestow the lily with the … proper equipment. Reluctantly, he had to admit that an entire transformation might prove beyond even his considerable powers. But he was confident he could manage at least the essential parts, with a little expert guidance.

Securing that guidance wasn't a quest to be undertaken lightly. Journeys through the astral plane were always so tiring for his wings. Not to mention the risk of tearing his second skin each time he was forced to don it again. And bargaining with the Magus of Flowers in his lonely tower always carried a risk with it, for it brought one to his attention. In this case, however, Auguste thought that sheer amusement would suffice in lieu of return favours.

Tohsaka would doubtless spit rage and fire for some time, but Auguste had no doubt his lady would bring the dragon under her magnificent heel. And whatever the lily’s sentiments on the matter, they did not factor into his considerations. His loyalty was entirely to his lady and the proud family she had been born to command. The legacy he would protect, even if he had to coax certain stubborn pieces into place.

“Auguste? You seem to be in a particularly good mood today. Do share with me?” smiled the heiress, leaning over the rim of the bathtub.

“Ah, I am thinking of what tasks I must add to my schedule. I would not trouble my lady with the details,” he said, with a gentle shake of his head.

“Ah? Then please, carry on.”

“Of course, my lady.”


	3. Carnival of the Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirei has waited long years for the Holy Grail War to come once more. Now the participants are finally gathering, even if they might not be quite what he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes my mind has mercy and the brainworm is SFW. I'm sure my luck won't hold out long.

"Rin. I am pleased that you have come here." Kirei quirked his lips in a blandly benevolent smile, the one his ward detested with all her heart. "However, as this War's overseer, I cannot play favourites among the chosen Masters."

A sore point, given his father had done exactly that for hers a mere decade before. Her eyes flashed in anger, but she controlled it. He couldn't help but feel a little proud of how cold and competent she had grown over the years, his fingerprints firmly impressed upon her clay. _It would break her mother's heart_, he thought, and his smile widened the merest fraction.

"As if I'd want that from you," she said coldly. "I'm only here so that you can explain _this_."

She pulled open her coat and carefully lifted a bird from inside. Kirei would have called it a crow, if not for its unusually large size and the crimson splendor of its feathers. Sharp golden eyes stared at him imperiously as the animal stepped down Rin's arm to perch atop the pew. The graceful movement of its legs did nothing to hide that there were _three_ clawed feet gripping at the wood.

Kirei could easily feel the burning aura flicking off each feather, but admitting it would please Rin. So instead he folded his hands behind his back and regarded her evenly. "All birds and beasts of the field are His Creatures, and welcome in His sight. It is however custom to leave pets -"

"It's not my pet!" she seethed between gritted teeth. "It's my Servant."

"I see." He considered the cruel claws grinding his furniture to splinters. "Then as this church is neutral ground, bringing it with you is in contravention of the rules. However… unusual he may be."

"Can it, you fake priest. If something goes awry with the Grail ritual, then it's the overseer's job to fix it." She crossed her arms and glared at him. "So fix it."

"Are you so sure it is the Grail, Rin? I seem to remember the matter of… what did your father used to call it? Ah yes. The Tohsaka curse."

Rin bristled. "_Yes_, I'm sure. And you owe us answers. Allof us."

At his raised eyebrow, she called over her shoulder. "Everyone, get in here!"

The doors opened with a long creak, and a ferocious beast slunk into the church. It looked like an outsized wolf, but with the crushing jaws and mad gaze of a hunting hyena. A young girl was seated atop its shaggy red shoulders, humming happily to herself. Her white hair and the crimson of her eyes, an exact match for the red in her Servant's, readily identified her as the Einzbern heir.

Next came a tousle-haired boy that Kirei vaguely recognized as the Matou heir. He glowered at the priest, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might shatter under the pressure. Behind him walked his adopted sister, her head bowed as if to avoid attention. Her arms were cuddled around a large brown hare, its long ears occasionally flicking against her chin and making her give an involuntary giggle. The animal leaned forward in her grasp as it spotted him, curiously sniffing the air.

The sibling pair was followed by a tall man in a smart white shirt and vest. Blond hair tumbled down his shoulders, framing an intelligent but arrogant face. Kirei had never met him in person, but he had spoken to him - well, been spoken _to_ by him - several times in the last month. Atrum Galliasta, the Master of Caster. Which apparently consisted of the small black cat perched on his shoulder, fastidiously licking its paw as it ignored the proceedings.

Atrum crinkled his nose as he surveyed the simple church, then each of the other Masters in turn. He opened his mouth, then suddenly stiffened and shook his leg.

"Off! Off, foul thing!"

The Matou boy screeched and pointed wildly at the man's leg, or rather the blackish-green serpent wrapped around it. A twisting thing of materialized darkness, its scales were slick with poison. Atrum cursed and finally forced it off, leaving it to coil at his feet. He looked accusingly at the cat, which merely switched to its other paw.

Another shuffle in the doorway caught Kirei's attention. A boy walked in, red hair and troubled eyes. Behind him loomed a great mass of black fur and muscle, incongruously adorned in jewelry of beaten golden plates and pearls.

The Matou girl gave a small gasp. "Senpai? No, why are you here?"

The boy turned towards her voice, her shock mirrored in his eyes. "Sakura? This is the place for the Grail War, isn't it? Shinji shouldn't have brought you here, it isn't safe." He looked reproachfully at the other boy, who answered him with a sneer.

"No!" said Sakura, her eyes wide with dread. "Senpai, you can't -"

"You, overseer!" Atrum's booming voice carelessly cut her off. He glared at Kirei. "Explain this at once. Why on earth have we all summoned animals?" He then looked at his cat in open disgust. "I carefully planned for a Servant that would bring me the dragon Ladon. Not this… _thing_."

He tossed his proud head disdainfully. In doing so, he missed the brief but meaningful look exchanged between the cat and the reptile. Kirei noticed, and rejoiced.

He turned to face the assembled Masters, addressing them as he might his flock. "The Holy Grail summons the Heroic Spirits carved in the annals of the human mind. It is perhaps not entirely surprising that it would call forth beasts, considering the prevalence of legends concerning His lesser creations. Consider the epics of Renart the Fox -"

"At least Renart talks!" said Rin angrily. "This bird just smugs at me."

'"They still communicate, though," said the red haired boy as his bear nuzzled him, almost knocking him to the ground with its sheer size. "And they're really nice!"

"Emiya-kun," said Rin, her hand placed against her forehead in exasperation, "I've explained this to you. They are very dangerous spirits. Just because you fed yours into loving you -"

_Emiya?_ Kirei's gaze swept over the boy with renewed interest. How much might he have absorbed from Emiya Kiritsugu -

"I like cooking for people!"

Kirei found himself blinking. Unexpected, and thus interesting. If only he had more time to slide exploratory needles under his skin. Figuratively, although he certainly wouldn't object to trying it on a literal level as well.

"Gevaudan is perfectly fine," grinned the Einzbern girl from her perch atop the great canine. "We used to run around the forest with all the wolves back in Germany. It's your own fault if your Servant is as difficult as you are, Rin."

"Excuse me? Look, you little -"

"Hmph!" The Matou boy smirked as he ran a hand along his hair. "Did you need me to show you how to command a Servant, Rin-chan? As the heir of the glorious Matou bloodline, I can show you -"

"Archer!"

The boy squealed as flaming pinions streaked through the air towards him. His scramble for cover was slow, far too slow. He would have been a bonfire if his own Servant had not flown to intercept. The Matou heir's hair was ruffled by his hare as it flung its feet with unerring precision, summoning great gusts of wind to knock each burning feather out of the way. One flew erratically to bury itself in the ground mere inches from the serpent's coiled tail. The latter hissed angrily and reared threateningly at the creature closest to it, which happened to be the bear.

Kirei shook his head solemnly, ignoring the petty squabbles breaking out around him. "I know as little about these particular circumstances as you all. I do not, however, see that they pose an obstacle to the manifestation of the Grail."

The resulting slew of arguments and accusations made it impossible to pick any single voice out. The discord might have continued endlessly if not for the loud bellow of pain from the sacristy in the back. It was followed by a heavy thump, then silence. As one, the assembled magi stopped and stared at Kirei, silently demanding an explanation. He looked at them with practiced blankness.

"Was that a bull?" asked Rin suspiciously. "Only we fought one last night -"

"It is nothing, I'm sure," said Kirei.

The back door burst open, revealing Gilgamesh in his full golden regalia. Even the arrogant Astrum flinched before the crushing force of the king's aura, his haughty bearing and cruel red eyes.

"Hmph! Look here, mongrels!" The King of Heroes grinned ferociously as he held aloft a severed bovine head. Blood dripped along the solar circle embedded in its forehead to patter against the church floor. "See now the fate that awaits any Bull of Heaven that dares show itself before the king!"

There was a long silence as all eyes fixed upon the newcomer, showing various degrees of shock and confusion. Eventually Kirei cleared his throat.

"Rejoice, Masters. The Fifth War for the Holy Grail has surely commenced."

The silence broke.

"Kirei, who the _hell _is that?"

"Oniichan, I'll definitely make you pay for everything! But first I need someone to ride with me. Let's go!"

"Hold on, we've just met -!"

"Sakura, this is all your fault you sl – oh my god, what is that snake eating…?

"... oh no. Don't look, Niisan!"

"EEEEEK!"

Perhaps it was not the start to the War that Kirei had spent long years imagining, but it was certainly not without merit. Truly the Lord did work in mysterious ways.

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious, the Servants are as follows:
> 
> Archer - Yangwu, the three-legged sun crow shot down by the archer Hou Yi to lessen the intensity of the suns.  
Berserker - the infamous Beast of Gevaudan.  
Rider - Mishabooz, the Great Hare of various First Nations' mythologies  
Caster - Mr. Mistoffelees of T.S. Eliot fame. Shame about that movie.  
Assassin - The Lambton Wyrm  
Saber - Jambavan, the King of Bears from the Ramyana  
Lancer- the Apis Bull of Egypt.


	4. Cloud of Drifting Lilies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irisviel sighed fondly as she picked up the bag, forgotten in the corner of the entryway. Illya-chan's friends could be forgetful, but just the simple knowledge that her daughters were surrounded by smiling faces more than made up for the inconvenience. She only wished she could do more to protect her family's little share of happiness, especially from certain magi with entirely too much time on their hands.
> 
> That was when the manga fell from a half-open side pocket, landing on floor with a small thud. Irisviel picked it up curiously, then smiled at the touching scene staring back at her from the cover page. Perhaps... yes, why not? She might not be a magical girl, but she could still spread a little magic of her own.

"Is it closer now?" called Bazett through gritted teeth. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead as she held the throttle in a death grip. They were going as fast as the motorcycle could take them, tearing along Fuyuki's streets at a breakneck pace, but still far too slow.

She could feel Caren turn in the seat behind her. "Since the last minute you asked me that?" came the flat snowy voice. "Yes, actually. Another dozen metres at least."

"Damn it!"

Bazett scowled as a curve in the road forced her to veer right with it. Every such manoeuvre, every deviation from a straight line _away_, was a chance for the cloud to gain ground on them. She didn't need to glance over her shoulder to see it. It was imprinted in her mind, silvery-pink swirls spreading faster than any wind could possibly carry them. If she let herself, she could smell the sweet floral scent, feel the white lilies rain down to catch in her hair and on her shoulders.

_No. Never. _She snarled as she leaned forward on the handlebars, hoping she could push the bike faster through sheer will.

"Damn it, damn it! What is that Irisviel thinking?"

* * *

_A half hour earlier_

"Oh good, you're both here! Thank you so much for coming." Irisviel smiled at Bazett and Caren as she waved to them from beside her parked car. Her simple white dress and loose flowing locks made her look for all the world like a young woman out for a picnic on a sunny day, if not for the bright crimson of her eyes.

Bazett nodded as she eyed the two women standing at attention on the other side of the vehicle. She vaguely recognized them as the Emiya household's maids despite their abandonment of their casual clothes in favour of stern white dresses and caps. They were obviously homunculi of Einzbern make, judging from the strands of white hair and red eyes they shared with their mistress. Not a negligible threat, but nothing she couldn't handle should it come to blows. She didn't think it likely given the peace of recent days and the amiable tone of Irsviel's phone call, but one never knew.

She pulled down to straighten her suit's sleeve and sighed as she wistfully took in their surroundings. It was a perfect spring day at Shintou Park, sunny with just enough of a cooling breeze to encourage people to indulge in a bite of warming food. In other words, a perfect day to sell takoyaki and pay off more of her debt to that infernal Edelfelt. Instead she was stuck looking at whatever the former Einzbern seemed deadset on showing her as the representative of the Magus Association. No doubt Caren was here to perform the same function on behalf of the church.

Bazett glanced at the Church's agent, who simply raised an elegant eyebrow in return. She had not bothered to change out of the white coat she wore as school nurse, even though it contrasted oddly with the ruffles of her blouse and the black tights that encased her long graceful legs. That same indifference was reflected in her flat expression as she surveyed the scene.

_No help from that corner, then. Typical. _The Enforcer sighed and bit the bullet, striding over to the beaming Irisviel.

"Alright. What's this ritual you want to show us?"

Irisviel waved lightly to her maids. "Sella, Leysritt. If you would?"

"Of course, Lady Irisviel," said the taller of the two. Almost formally, she took up a position on the right side of the car, near the trunk. The other maid seemed more relaxed, ambling to the other side while entirely ignoring a hiss of reprimand from her counterpart.

Rather than opening the trunk, the tall maid reached under the car's body, fumbling a bit before there was an audible click. Then a long flat surface, rather like a board, emerged from a panel at the back that Bazett had previously overlooked. As the maids gripped the edges and rolled it out, the Enforcer found herself stiffening at the sight. Every inch of the surface was covered in an elaborate magic circle, traced out in wire and glowing a faint blue.

"A portable circle?" frowned Bazett. _But there's a reason they've never caught on with magi. There's so much room for damage to occur in transport that it's rarely worth the attempt_.

Irisviel's smile only widened as she tilted her head fondly to one side. "Kiritsugu helped me perfect the system. You don't need to worry about a thing."

Caren's eyes flicked across the sprawling runes. "Is this heresy related to the Greater Grail?" she asked, her tone as disinterested as ever. "If so, I will need the details so that the depths of your depravity may truly be understood."

The homunculus shook her head. "No. Well, maybe a little bit. Everyone still seems so tense, between the Class Cards and the remnants from the other side. So I wanted to try something to bring a little happiness."

"You know the rules, Irisviel." Bazett stepped closer, looking at the circle suspiciously. She had been half-expecting some kind of summoning and binding sigils, but there was nothing of the sort. The spellwork looked unfamiliar, except for one rune that she was certain symbolized fertility. She huffed and bent down for a closer look -

"Ah, I almost forgot!" said Irisviel cheerfully. "It needs a catalyst." She smoothly produced a squarish object from her purse and placed it in the centre of the circle.

Bazett leaned forward for a better look. "Is … is that a manga?"

The cover was mostly black and white, with pastel pinks highlighting the faces of two young girls blushing at each other. She had to admit that the artwork was excellent, even if it lacked the final polish of the material she had sometimes seen customers reading at her various food stands.

"That's a doujin," said Caren. "I have enjoyed confiscating many from crying children."

Irisviel's smile twitched, but valiantly stayed in place. Bazett shrugged, her eyes still fixed upon the circle.

"So explain. What exactly is this supposed to accomplish?"

"Actually, you can observe for yourself," beamed Irisviel. "It's almost done." She lifted her hand over the circle, red eyes gleaming. "_Anfang! Lilien für Gefühle, in die Luft entlassen!"_

Before Bazett's startled eyes, the circle's lines flared a bright blue, then an alarming shade of magenta. Moments later it erupted into billowing silvery-pink smoke that rapidly spread outward.

"Tch!"

She recoiled, automatically pulling Caren by her coat as she sought to put as much distance between herself and the phenomenon. Rather than dissipate in the air, the smoke was only growing in strength with each passing moment. It rose and spread steadily through the air, forming a pinkish mass that obscured the afternoon sun. Even halfway across the lot, she could smell something heavy and floral on the breeze, the kind of overpowering fragrance rarely encountered outside of botanical gardens.

"Irisviel! What is the meaning of this?"

The woman's smile was beatific, even as she was swallowed up by the cloud. "Just a little something to bring some happiness to restless magi," she said. "Here, I brought some snacks. Why don't we all sit down and talk about it?"

Bazett growled as she bolted for her motorcycle. _I should have known better than to trust that smile, those fox eyes. Once a magus, always a magus_. But self-recrimination could wait until later. For now, she would retreat until she could assess the nature of whatever bizarre spell the Einzbern had cooked up.

She had taken only a few steps when the maids appeared in front of her with lightning speed to block her path.

"Please stay a moment," said the taller. "Lady Irisviel insists you join her for refreshments."

"It's a lot less bothersome to just take things easy," added the other.

Bazett's eyes narrowed as she traced the Ehwaz runes on her gloves, letting power flow freely from her Crest into her fists. "Out of my way!" she roared before lunging forward.

The maids moved with considerable speed, one striking for her shoulder while the other kicked forward in an attempt to trip her up. But Bazett had well-earned her position as one of the Association's top Enforcers. A shoulder blow knocked the first out of the way, giving her the opening to nimbly leap over the other's attack.

Once clear, Bazett spun around to face them again. She seemed to have correctly assessed their threat level, but it never paid to be complacent. The last thing she needed was to be caught in the back by an unexpected Mystic Code or other trick.

The maids had already resumed combat stances, their white uniforms clearly outlining them against the pink vapors curling around their shoulders.

"We won't let you escape!" declared the taller, raising her hand for another strike.

Bazett braced herself for the impact when a deep sigh from the side seemed to knock all the air out of her attacker's sails. She found herself following her opponent's gaze to her companion, who was watching her with keen eyes and a wistful expression.

"Leysritt?" said the taller maid, her stance relaxing as she reached towards the other. "Is everything alright?"

Leysritt's lips curled in a playful smile. "You look pretty cool when you're serious like that, neesan."

The other stiffened in surprise, then softened as she turned to face her companion - sister? - directly. She played nervously with a strand of hair protruding from her cap. "You think so?"

Bazett blinked in disbelief at the scene unravelling before her. She should be taking to her heels, _she knew that_, and yet she couldn't tear her eyes away. As she stared, a white lily dropped from the cloud to gracefully land on the younger maid's shoulder.

"Mmm," said the other lazily, absently brushing the flower away. "It's part of your tsundere charm. That's why it doesn't matter about your chest."

Bazett forced her feet to move, slowly retreating towards her bike. Neither of the maids seemed to notice, either her movements or the soft rain of petals that gently floated down around them.

"What _about_ my chest?" The taller glared at her sister and pointed an accusing finger. "We can't all have huge ones like yours!" She paused, a pink blush rising to her cheeks, made all the more apparent by the paleness of her skin and clothes. "Although they do look very nice.."

"Do you want to touch'em?"

'Leysritt!" said the other in an outraged tone, before muttering in a reluctant voice that carried too far on those pink wisps. "... yes."

"I don't mind. _If_ you'll do my chores for the next month."

"That's not fair!" A long pause, an awkward shuffle of feet. "A week at most."

"Stingy, neesan," said Leysritt, but that didn't stop her from moving forward to sweep the other maid up in an embrace. A decidedly _unsisterly_ embrace. Bazett blushed as she looked away from vigorously moving lips and hands carelessly ripping caps off to eagerly run through pale tresses.

"Sella? Leysritt?" Irisviel's high sweet voice carried from within the swirling wisps. "Well, I did sometimes wonder about all the teasing…"

A terrible dread fell over Bazett, clenching icy fingers around her limbs and belly. Her paralysis broken, she dragged Caren by the arm over to the bike.

"We're going. _Now_."

Caren nodded as she swung up into place behind her. "Agreed. I have no interest in that."

Bazett glanced behind just in time to see a wispy tendril caress her back tire. She snarled as she pulled at the ignition switch.

"Come on, come on!"

To her immense relief, the bike roared to life underneath her. She jerked on the throttle, and they took off in a rush of squealing tires. As they raced from the parking lot, Bazett could just hear a sweet voice carried on the wind.

"Ahh, I'm glad they're getting along so well, but they do seem busy. I guess I'll ask Shirou to help out with dinner again?"

* * *

"We can do this!" Bazett talked aloud to herself as the motorcycle shot across the city bridge, the metal grating rattling wildly under her wheels. "The temple's magical field should rapidly drain a spell of this construction. We just need to beat it there."

Her breath hitched as Caren's slender form suddenly settled against her back, warm in the rushing wind surrounding them. She relaxed the slightest bit under that sweet pressure, then fiercely shook her head. _No, focus. Don't let the lily cloud get to you_.

"Unfortunately, my work for the Lord has forced me to acquire some understanding of the heretical arts," said her passenger, leaning forward to be heard over the air pressure.

Bazett huffed. "As if your church has anything close to clean hands -"

" - and mind control spells are notoriously unstable," Caren continued smoothly. "Especially when applied to those with some gift of their own. Irisviel is hardly an expert in this sort of spellwork."

"You seem sure of that. Is the church so very interested in the Einzbern?"

"The Lord's servants keep an eye on all pitiful sinners. Regardless, Irisviel's spell should cause nothing more than a brief moment of infatuation, if that. Unless ..." Caren tilted her head so that her mouth was right against Bazett's ear, dripping frost. "Unless it is only drawing out what's already there."

"Then those two maids -"

"Had doubtless been harbouring sinful thoughts for quite some time. How sad, the depravity of humans without the Lord's hand to guide them." The smile whispering against Bazett's cheek said the opposite.

"R-right." The Enforcer resisted the urge to tug her collar a little looser, to expel some of the heat creeping up her face and neck.

"So you don't need to worry, Bazett-san," she said, her voice slipping into a mocking sing-song. "Even if the cloud were to catch us, your pure heart would resist."

"O-of course! Who do you think you're talking to?" But the Enforcer's grip on the throttle only tightened as the bike blew through an intersection, sending pedestrians screaming for cover.

"And yet still so fearful," drawled Caren into her ear. "Oh my, Bazett-san! I never suspected you of such perversions. Homosexuality is a sin, yet you carry it in your breast." Her voice dropped into a caressing whisper. "You filthy woman."

Bazett resented the implication, but not as much as the shiver running down her spine. "Don't joke around! I like _men_!"

Caren merely hummed against her ear. "That Cu Chulainn you're so very fond of? You do know necrophilia is a sin as well?"

"Not like _that!_ He's going to be alive when I bring him here! As soon as I've got all the cards, I can -" Bazett shook her head. "Forget it. Right now, we need to get away from that cloud."

"The one you are perfectly capable of resisting."

Bazett risked a glance over her shoulder, the better to scowl at her passenger. "Oh yeah? If it's so easy to resist, then why are you here on my bike?"

"You manhandled me to it, remember?" observed Caren dispassionately, before her lips curled up in the ghost of a smirk. "And I do enjoy the despair etched on your face. Please, show me more of it."

The Enforcer scowled. Not for the first time, she seriously considered throwing the ungrateful woman to the wolves. It would give her a much-needed boost in speed. But once again, she found herself unable to do it. Her hands, so loyal in battle, inexplicably turned traitor whenever it came to that witch carved in ice and shadows.

So she contented herself with a shake of the head as she refocused on the road. Unfortunately, Caren's nonsense had distracted her at a crucial moment in her driving. Now they were stuck on one of the side roads, trapped behind a line of cars moving unbearably slowly.

"I don't have time for this," she snarled. Already the air around her was taking on a subtle tint of pink. _It can't be helped_, she told herself as she gunned the engine and sent the bike racing down the opposite lane. Distantly she heard the screams of her fellow motorists as she recklessly wove in and out of traffic. Several times she forced her ride through space so narrow she could smell the steel of the enclosing cars, but her instincts held true. _Just a little more, and we'll be back on the main highway. Just a bit more -!_

Because life loved to sneer in Bazett's face and pour its drink in her lap, that was precisely when the limousine pulled into the lane ahead. It was a big black monster, the sort favoured by old money and mafia dons. And it left absolutely no room to maneuver around.

"Oh my. Will you surrender, Bazett-san?" said the frost woman from behind her.

"Never! _I want CU!_"

Buoyed by a vision of fierce eyes and a cocky smile, Bazett pulled hard on her magic circuits and threw the bike on its back wheel. Fierce winds provided just the bit of lift needed for the bike to land heavily on the limousine's back. Then with a triumphant shout and a roar of the engine, she sped down the sloping steel of the car's excessively long roof.

"CU!" she screamed again as the tires thudded heavily on the windshield, squealing as they struggled to find purchase on the glass. Then another thump, and they were safely on the other side. Bazett howled in manic laughter as she twisted the throttle. Four hundred pounds of steel roared beneath her, hurtling towards the western mountain and its holy sanctuary. _Salvation!_

* * *

"That should do it, then." Rin closed her notebook with a sigh. "The Association won't be satisfied with this, but it's the best we can do for now."

"They should be grateful that they are receiving a report at all," said Luvia. "The last few weeks have been most trying."

"Yeah. That was the kind of out of body experience I never want to repeat."

The Edelfelt heir nodded, then pursed her lips as she watched the barbarian relax against the soft padding of the limousine's back seat. Rin always stretched her legs out in a way that a naive observer might call careless, but Luvia knew to be provocation. The girl knew full well they were her best asset, soft silky skin over toned muscles, and she never failed to put them on display.

_Too bad they will never be enough to win Rin her man. Not when the rest of the composition is lacking. _Luvia was sorely tempted to tell her as much, so she could enjoy watching her rival's cheeks flush in seething rage and embarrassment. But no, she had other plans for the girl today.

So instead she leaned forward and gently patted Rin's hand. "You comported yourself well, all things considered. For a peasant, you understand."

Rin narrowed her eyes in suspicion, then flashed her a winning smile. "I guess you did okay too, for a pampered princess."

Luvia managed to bite back the insult that danced on the tip of her tongue. No, she would not let Rin fray her self-control this time. She would win her over instead, lure the hedgehog into showing its soft belly.

"Mmm. I am reluctant to admit it, but you are useful in a crisis." Luvia allowed just a hint of a smile to grace her expression. She had to warm up to it progressively. Rin may be a barbarian, but she wasn't a complete fool. There had to be enough barbs in the honey to place it on the far side of plausible.

Rin sighed as she slipped her notebook into her bag, looking uncharacteristically wistful. "Hey, Luvia? If it wasn't for, you know, family matters…"

"Those matters are of paramount importance, Rin. You know that."

"Yeah, I do. We're magi." Her gaze trailed outside, watching the blur of passing houses. "But even you can pretend for just a moment, right? Do you think we could have been…"

Rin shook her head, and Luvia had to bite back a laugh. _Oho, this is just too easy. _She had expected weeks of careful coaxing before she could find the first chink in the girl's guard. If a little praise and (_feigned, surely it was feigned_) empathy could put Rin into such a mood, what could a determined facade of friendship accomplish? And then, what compromising positions Luvia would be able to trick her into! So many that her rival would never dare show her face in front of dear Shero ever again.

Ignoring the odd clenching in her heart, Luvia smiled at Rin and opened her mouth to suggest -

The silence was torn apart by a mechanical howl from the road behind them. It was followed by a loud thump as something big and heavy landed on the roof.

Luvia frowned as she automatically reached into the hem of her dress, sliding an array of gems between her fingers. "Rin-!" she called warningly.

"Not me!" Rin shook her head, reaching for her own ammunition.

Luvia huffed and crossed the compartment to deliver instructions to Auguste. She was just in time to see spinning tires run down the windshield, spraying mud all over the formerly pristine glass.

_Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable! _Luvia ground her teeth as she turned to her butler. "Auguste. Please tell me which barbarian _dares _commit such an outrage upon my property?"

Disciplined servant that he was, Auguste didn't flinch at the ice in her voice. "I believe that was Miss McRemitz and Miss Hortensia, my lady."

Luvia's eyes gleamed with indignation, and with it, malice. "They think they can so casually run over the Edelfelt, do they? How foolish!"

She drew in a deep breath for a satisfying laugh, then almost choked on the sweet scent suddenly filling her nose. It was sweet and floral, with an underlying bite that made her think of woodsmoke. She blinked, brushing away the lilies tangled in the curls of her hair.

"My lady?" prompted Auguste. "Shall we follow them?"

"Follow…? Oh yes." That impertinent Bazett and her partner in crime. Somehow, catching up and blowing that cheap conveyance out from under them no longer seemed anywhere as important. She could simply add the damage to the Enforcer's considerable tab and leave it at that.

The fluttering warmth in her belly told her there were more important things with which to concern herself. She turned to look at Rin, who had her eyes closed as she dreamily breathed in the sweet scent. Had her hair always been this soft, raven feathers under her questing hand?

_Rin. Compromising positions. _The warmth spreading through her body took on rather more heat. She turned back to Auguste, still patiently awaiting her instructions.

"Auguste, where is the nearest hot spring? A respectable one."

"Understood, my lady."

* * *

"Did you need this motorcycle to carry you to your little jobs, Bazett?"

"Huh?" Bazett glanced back at the snow woman perched behind her. She swallowed hard as those beautiful amber eyes sought hers. "Well, yes. But why bring that up?"

"Do you see those sirens over there, in the distance?" Caren's lips twitched in her equivalent to a wide grin. "Those _are _rather a lot of police cars."

"Shit!"

* * *

"Ainsworth. I will destroy the Ainsworth."

Angelica watched warily as the girl in the gym uniform stalked towards her, fire pooling in those golden eyes. Steam curled from Tanaka's body. Each of her steps left the pavement scorched and blackened. The former Card wielder had heard Illyasviel and the others refer to Tanaka as somewhat childish and, in Chloe's words, "fifteen whole cans short of a six pack." It was difficult to reconcile with the hard intent in the girl's face, or the threat carried in her squared shoulders.

_Ainsworth. _Her family had thrown her away when she broke on that stone pillar, a doll that no longer served its purpose. But still their shadow fell over her, cast so wide and deeply that she would never escape it. Tanaka's hostility was the proof of it.

"So be it," she said, more to herself than to her executioner. "This is the proper end for all broken tools." And without the Archer card, what was she but broken, useless? Illyasviel had brought her away, but that had been an automatic thing, an instinct to save something human-shaped despite its hollow nature. Angelica Ainsworth, the real one, had died years ago. Now it was only right that the doll made in her image should join her. She forced away the trembling in her limbs and closed her eyes, awaiting the inevitable blow.

She swallowed as she heard the footsteps drawing closer, felt the unnatural wave of heat brush against her face. Heard the fierce mechanical growl of an approaching motorcycle.

_Motorcycle? _Angelica snapped her eyes open just in time to see a frantic blur of dark brown and white, mounted on screaming steel. She flinched back as it tore between her and Tanaka, so close that her hair and clothes whipped wildly in its wake. "FOR CUUUU!" trailed nonsensically on the wind.

She felt an uncomfortable pressure in her chest, frowning for a few moments before recognizing it as the racing of her heart. _I just came close to dying_, she thought. _As I had expected to. So why is this body in rebellion? Why do I feel so relieved?_

A heavy tread of feet called her attention back to Tanaka, who had resumed her relentless advance. She was staring at Angelica as intently as ever. Her eyes had taken on an alarming reddish sheen from the colourful mist surrounding them.

_Mist?_ _When did -_

"Ainsworth," growled the teenager. "Destroy the …" She came to a sudden stop and tilted her head quizzically at Angelica, looking for all the world like a confused dog. The impression was not helped by her ruffled wind-blown hair. "Destroy Ainsworth by… cuddling? Yes!" Tanaka suddenly beamed at her. "Cuddle Ainsworth!"

"I don't understand," said Angelica, because she really didn't. But Tanaka had already grabbed her in a bear hug. She felt herself pressed against the other girl's front, scorching heat replaced by a soothing warmth. It was like being immersed in a hot bath, pulling the ache from every muscle. After so many years shivering in snowy streets…

Angelica shuddered, then breathed out as Tanaka's head nuzzled under her chin. The girl's hair felt wonderfully soft against her skin, as silky as fine cloth. And that odd sound from the other's throat… was Tanaka _purring_?

"Cuddle Ainsworth until she's no longer Ainsworth! That's what Tanaka will do, mmm!"

She felt heat blossom in her cheeks, and lifted up a hand to tentatively feel them. But Tanaka wasn't touching her there. Which meant…

_Oh. So _this _is blushing_.

* * *

"There's the finish line!" Bazett's heart soared as the forested mountain rose up before them. Even without Reinforcement, she could spot the temple gates nestled between the trees. All she had to do was make it to the other side.

She was so fixed on their destination that she almost missed the warning pulse of magic and the flash of pink light in the road ahead. As it was, she was forced to bring the motorcycle to a screeching halt, the vehicle skidding dangerously on the pavement before she managed to right it.

"Tch! Now what?" She pounded her fists together in frustration as her gaze swept the area.

'Bazett-san!" called a familiar voice from above, high and sweet.

The Enforcer looked up to see Illyasviel floating down, her pink skirt billowing around her. She looked apologetic as she landed on the ground some distance away, but she held her wand firmly. Then a flash of blue, and Miyu touched ground next to her.

"I'm sorry, Bazett-san. But I can't let you get to the temple."

"I must reach the temple," said Bazett coolly. "Get out of my way." She took no pleasure in fighting against children, even ones equipped with the Wizard Marshall's infamous magics, but she would not hesitate if Illyasviel stood between her and sanctuary.

Illyasviel shook her head frantically. "No! I can't. I'm sorry, but I promised Mama. I'll fight to keep that promise!"

Bazett had scarcely opened her mouth when the wand jerked to life in the young girl's hand. "You mean you'll fight to get those pictures of Oniichan that Mama bribed you with!"

"Ruby! Don't say it like that! I'm only doing this to keep them safe from Kuro."

"It's not good to lie to yourself, Illya-chan!"

Bazett leapt from the bike as soon as Illyasviel started banging the wand against the ground, ready to take advantage of the opening. Unfortunately she found herself by a burst of shining blue and a determined Miyu.

"I won't let you touch Illya!"

Bazett scowled at her as she spun around, charging her fists for another strike. "You're part of this madness too? Are pictures of Shirou _this _valuable?" _Maybe I've been taking entirely the wrong kind of jobs..._

"No!" Perhaps Miyu had picked up on her thoughts, because she looked uncharacteristically irritated as she parried the blow, then retaliated with a blast of blue light. "I mean, I don't want them. But if Illya does, then I'll help her!"

"This is ridiculous!" Bazett looked over her shoulder. The cloud was rolling down Fuyuki's streets, engulfing everything in magenta mist. Small sprays of lilies and roses drifted on its tendrils, a threat that lanced down to the woman's very marrow. She growled then glanced at Caren, silently asking her to do something. Buy her time.

The snow woman looked back at her, then waved dismissively. Bazett heaved a sigh. _Really, what was I expecting?_

She shook her head and turned back towards the two magical girls (_an unfortunate but necessary recent addition to her vocabulary_). They were crouched in combat stances, their wands at the ready. Nothing for it, then. Bazett charged her fists and rushed them.

_Zwoop! Zwoop! _A blinding barrage of magical shots flew at her. Bazett dodged between them, her shoes tearing up the grass in her violent dashes. She brought her knee around for a precision strike to Miyu's stomach. A flash of blue, and her foot slid off a barrier of shifting ice. Her driving fists crashed through it, briefly connecting with the girl's stomach before Illyasviel's blast forced her back.

Flurries of blows, flares of exploding mana, and still Bazett was no closer to punching through. The struggles of the past month had sharpened these girls. She might have approved if it wasn't for scent of roses steadily creeping into the air. _I'm out of time. There must be some way to -_

Her eyes caught a glimmer of gold shining at Miyu's wrist. A star-shaped charm bracelet.

It was a low tactic, but Bazett was desperate. She made a feint to the right, then spun her foot around just below the sapphire girl's wrist. The black cord snapped easily, sending the charm flying.

"Miyu! Your bracelet!" Illyasviel immediately ran after the fallen charm, dropping to her knees to search for it in the churned up earth.

"Ahh, Illya!" Miyu glanced between her and Bazett, clearly torn. Then she glared at the Enforcer before running after her friend, kneeling down in the ground beside her. "Illya, you don't have to. I can look myself -"

"It's precious! After everything we've been through together, how could I not -"

Hardened Enforcer or not, Bazett felt like she had just kicked a dozen kittens. "It's for Cu," she told herself as she sprinted back to the motorcycle through deepening swirls of pink, her sleeve pressed tightly against her mouth to ward off the lily scent. Caren only nodded as Bazett hurled herself back into the seat. The key was still in the ignition, the engine still purring. She gave a fierce smile as the bike roared back into motion.

The tires bumped wildly against the rough ground that led to the temple steps, jerking them violently this way and that. It didn't matter. Bazett allowed herself a small smile as they approached the arch of the first _torii gate_.

"Your loss, Irisviel!" The pine-scented wind was wonderful, cleansing the lingering stench of lilies from her throat. "We made it!"

She was so elated that she didn't notice the figure emerging from the nearby trees, nor its shadowed grin as it raised its hand. "Trace… on!"

* * *

_An hour later_

Bazett groaned into her menu. "It's not fair."

Caren's eyes glittered in the soft candlelight. "The Lord provides, but sinners neglect to use his gifts. How embarrassing, to see an Association Enforcer brought so low."

"Damn that Kuro! How can she hit a tire with that much accuracy at a hundred feet?" Bazett glanced around the restaurant resentfully. She didn't want to take Irisviel's cheerful recommendation, not after everything that had happened, but she'd had no choice. Her recent lack of funds meant she had no idea what constituted fine dining in Fuyuki, so she'd had to bite the bullet. She didn't want to bring Caren anywhere sub-par for their first date.

"How disappointing," said her companion.

Bazett snapped her head up, worried that she had made some mistake. But Caren was gazing at her, perfect lips curled in a small smile. "I hoped that you might cry. Your face would look beautiful streaked in tears." She blinked, then raised a slender finger to rest under her chin. "Oh my. This _has_ been a day of self-discovery."

The Enforcer scowled, then turned as the waiter approached the table. She gaped when she caught sight of a lean muscular body wrapped in a formal suit, tangled blue locks and a winning smile. Fierce red eyes gleamed at her as the man leaned down.

"May I take your order, lasses?" grinned Cu Chulainn.

Bazett banged her fist on the table. "Begone, temptation! I am _not _polyamorous!"

She balked and turned pale. Caren merely raised an eyebrow at her again.

"Self-discovery indeed."


	5. A Matter of Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dream visitor first descended on Shirou's dreams a month ago, when his nights were still haunted by rings of black fire and blades prickling under his skin. Hot mouth, hot hands, hot pleasure that came as a relief, even if it was all a fragment of his imagination. 
> 
> In retrospect, an imagination that might secretly hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I even doing? This entire chapter was inspired by a certain image (https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/623905440656523274/671894072411160596/tUupe5L.png) that made me spit my coffee out all over my screen. It may put the following into context, even if it certainly doesn't excuse it.

Hot fingers pressed against Shirou’s bare chest, small claws trailing fire along his sensitive skin as the woman straddled him. Strands of long black hair had pulled free from her scarlet ribbon, sending shining locks tumbling over her pointed ears. They swept across his cheeks like rough silk as she leaned down, her face a whisper’s breath from his, their noses almost touching. Golden eyes bored into his, their curious square pupils narrowing with predatory hunger until they were almost slits. She grinned lasciviously down at him.

“I’m gonna ride you all night long, _ hero _ ,” she purred, deep and throaty in a way that sent shivers down his spine and made fire pool in his groin. “I want your sword inside me. _ All the way _in.”

_ Ahh, _ thought Shirou as those wicked lips attached themselves to the curve of his throat, lightly worrying the skin. _ It’s one of _ those _ dreams again._

The sheets were cool against his back as he laid back, letting the woman splay her hands along his hips. She moved down his body, giving a throaty laugh before trailing her hot tongue down to his collarbone, lingering on his chest before moving further down to his abdomen. Shirou’s fist tightened in the covers as his body arched instinctually towards that touch, not waiting for his input.

A sigh escaped his mouth despite the hormones rushing through his flesh, bringing him to full mast. The first of these dreams descended upon him a month ago, when his nights were still haunted by rings of black fire and blades prickling under his skin. It had come as a relief at the time, despite the guilt and shame that crashed down on him when he awoke to Sakura, his sweet lover, curled up in his arms. When she had stirred and looked up at him, covered as he was in sweat and stickier fluids, Shirou had been unable to look her in the eyes. But when he had explained his nocturnal fancies, red-faced and stammering, she had only giggled and told him he could not help what he dreamed.

_ Besides, you always wake up next to me, Senpai _ , she had whispered in his ear. _ That’s enough for me_.

The corners of his mouth curved into a soft smile. _ It’s enough for me too, Sakura _. So he let himself be pulled along by the visitor whenever she invaded his dreamscape, plunging him into groaning heat and the slap of flesh on flesh, until her phantasm vanished in the rays of morning. It was harmless, even if it did leave him exhausted for the rest of the— 

His breath hitched as fingers slipped under the hem of his trousers, teasing at skin made sensitive by need.

“You look… look sho good I could eat yooou up…”

The husky tone was a little unsteady, with just the hint of a slur. It was a marked contrast to the rich, confident tone that usually poured like fine sake from his visitor’s lips, no matter the guise she wore. Brows furrowed in confusion, he looked up to see that curvy body swaying slightly atop his thighs, and not in the deliberate seduction he had come to expect from these “sessions”. Long fingers fumbled with the zipper at the top of his pants.

“Um…” he began, then snapped his mouth shut. In all the torrid nights his mind had conjured up for him (_ and why did it insist on doing that, when Sakura was so generous with her affections) _, he had never worked up the nerve to speak to the woman greedily spread over his flesh. Not only that, but it had seemed… well, unnecessary, to talk to what was a figment of his imagination. But the unfocused, almost glassy look creeping into those golden eyes worried him. Shirou Emiya was no longer a hero - perhaps he never had really been - but his chest still tightened at the idea that someone was suffering when he might be able to help.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Is everything alright, miss….?”

She raised her head, locking their gazes together again. A pink tongue slipped out, gliding provocatively along to wet her lips.

“It’shh better than alright.” She gave him a lopsided leer. “It’shh gonna be _ amazing _.” There was a jerk of cloth against his hips as she found the zipper tab and tugged it down, with rather more force than necessary. “Thankss for the meal!”

With a sigh, he raised himself off the bed so she could strip his pants off more easily. Experience had told him that it was best to just go along with what the apparition wanted. Usually, the visitor rewarded him with furiously intense sex, her mouth and hands and womahood wrapping around him in ways surely meant to drive him mad with lust. Shirou had his doubts about this particular iteration, however. The clumsy shuffle of her arms on either side of him as she settled her face between his thighs did not bode well.

“Hey, if you’re not feeling well, we don’t have to do this.” He gently pushed down on her shoulders. “I know this is part of the, um, routine, but maybe we should t—”

The words died in his throat, drowned out by a low groan as her lips engulfed his aching cock. A hot tongue laved and sucked at the length, tracing a particularly sensitive vein along the underside. Warm hands slid down to curl around the base, rubbing up and down in time with the movement of her lips and the lightest scrape of teeth. The earlier awkwardness seemed to have melted away entirely, leaving the hungry temptress he had grown accustomed to. 

Raw arousal surged through him, jerking his hips up to thrust into the hot welcoming cavern of her mouth. The visitor’s head bobbed up and down, midnight tresses spilling like ink in a way that might have hypnotized him if he weren’t so flushed with burning pleasure. Her eyes flickered up to his and held them, sparking with wicked amusement as he groaned and shuddered under her ministrations. 

“Ahhh… yeah, that feels… ngh!” he found himself grinding out as he reached down to bury his hands in her hair, unable to resist twining the silky locks around his digits. 

A soft vibration shivered around his straining cock, and he realized she was laughing even as she kept massaging him with her tongue, teasingly pressing his engorged tip against the inside of her cheek. 

“That’s good,” he moaned, instinctively tightening his grip on her scalp. “Oh, that’s… umh!”

She sucked him back into her throat, setting his throbbing manhood twitching as slick hot flesh coiled around the tip. He had never dared ask Sakura to deep-throat him like this, afraid to hurt his beloved partner, but this… he shivered at the erotic sight as the visitor ardently moved her lips along his shaft. _ This feels amazing _.

Again and again, she worked her way up his cock with expert ease, alternating the speed and angle at which she sucked and caressed aching flesh to keep him on a razor edge of excitement. Hot pleasure built in his member, until it was pulsing with every roll of hips as he desperately thrust into that eager mouth. 

“I’m going to…” He shuddered as she picked up the pace, sucking with renewed vigour even as he plunged inside her. A hand slapped lightly against his thigh, which he took as reassurance.

Lightning raced along his spine and along every nerve, until he couldn’t hold back anymore. With a strangled grunt, he let himself go, his hips jerking as he shot his liquid white seed into her mouth. She didn’t pull away - if anything, her lips tightened around his shaft as she greedily swallowed, suctioning her cheeks to pull every last drop from him. He thrust a few times more, riding out his orgasm, before slumping back onto the bed. His hands fell from her head to rest, palm-up, on rough cotton.

She released him with a wet little pop, sitting back and raising a hand to wipe away the pearly white dripping down her chin. He watched in fascination as droplets fell to stain her crimson gloves. Their gazes locked again, and she smirked.

“Mmmm!” she exclaimed, before softening her voice into the sensual purr of a jungle cat. “Tastes like bad parenting.” Her wicked grin widened as golden eyes gleamed. “So yummy!”

The lazy smile on his face stiffened as her words set in. _ Wait, what did she— _

Lips still sticky with his own essence crashed against his as she captured him in a violent, sloppy kiss. Bitterness filled his mouth, underlain with a tint of old metal. His stomach heaved as her tongue, still coated in saliva and cum, danced around his briefly before releasing him. When they separated, a long trail of spit still connected their trembling lips. He couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Like needlessh sacrifice and the vinegar of regretsh,” she smiled, some of the edge blurring as her eyes grew unfocused again, pointed ears flitting erratically up and down.

“No…” said Shirou, unable to look away. “Oh god, why would you even say that. I…”

The visitor hiked herself back on top of his groin, tearing carelessly at the expensive-looking silk of her dress. Straddling his lap, she took a while positioning herself over his cock, sliding against him in a few failed attempts before she seemed satisfied with the angle. _ Wait, how am I hard again so soon— _

“I’ll…” A warm slurp of tongue over lips and cheeks. “I’ll shooow you wha A+ ridin’ skill is like…”

Then firm fingers gripped him roughly before guiding him between her warm slippery folds. A deep breath from both of them, then she sank down on his cock. Pleasure should have followed as his body rose to meet hers, hips slamming together with the wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh. But despite the slow burn spreading through his loins, his mind could only focus on the foul taste of his own seed, still clinging to the top of his mouth, old meat and acridity and _ it made him want to retch but his body was still thrusting in spite of him, thrusting and heaving and he opened his mouth to scream— _

_ — _Shirou awoke with his heart hammering in his chest, his wild shout lodged in his throat. For a wild moment, gold eyes stared back at him from the darkness, gold overlaid with black squares, and his entire body trembled.

A sleepy murmur drew his gaze to the side, where Sakura was slowly sitting up, her nude form outlined silver by the moonlight. She rubbed her eyes as she turned to look at him.

“Senpai…?” A short gasp tumbled from her lips as she reached for his hands, her brows creased. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

He took a deep breath to steady himself, then offered her a shaky smile. “Nothing, Sakura. Just a bad dream.”

“Oh Senpai. You too…” She sighed, a whisper in the stillness. 

Shirou felt a little guilty at that, knowing she thought him plagued by blood and shadows instead of… well, whatever _ that _had been. As unpleasant as the erotic dream had turned, it was still a far sight better than Saber’s ominous visor and grim smile, or the agonized screech of the blades shifting inside him,

He forced his shoulders to relax as he took her into his arms. Warm skin, flush with life and health even after everything she had been through, _ they _ had been through together. It felt like a miracle, one that was renewed each day when he gazed into her beautiful violet eyes.

She didn’t protest when he pulled back just enough to kiss her, their mouths melding together in a dance of tenderness and affection. Her lips tasted of milk tea and mint. Much better than…

He winced as they came up for air. “Sakura, um… can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” she said, rubbing her thumb gently over his knuckles.

“When you, um… take me in your mouth,” he said hesitantly, watching red creep into her face, visible despite the dim light. From the burn in his cheeks, he knew he wasn’t much better off. “Do I, um…”

She nodded encouragingly despite her obvious embarrassment. Somehow, that made things worse instead of better. His fingers twitched against the sheets.

“Nevermind,” he said after a moment. “I… I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

The weight of her gaze followed him out into the hallway, but he couldn’t help that. He couldn’t relax, not with the doubt still clouding everything he believed about himself. Shaky steps carried him towards the old man’s office. 

In the shadowed house, he could see light spilling from underneath Rider’s room. Curiosity demanded a small detour, as well as the homeowner’s natural instinct to make sure everything was alright. He paused in front of the tatami door, then quietly slid it open. 

“Rider…?”

The Servant was slumped over her table, her fingers still curled loosely over a sake bottle. Eyebrow twitching, he looked down to the floor, where another five bottles were lined up - neatly at first, then with increasingly less precision. Apparently she had carried on their earlier drinking party in the privacy of her quarters. 

“Can spirits even get drunk?” he asked himself. “Well, I guess if they want to… maybe they can imagine themselves into that state or something.”

For a moment, he considered going into the room and putting Rider to bed. But no, she had no need for rest anyway, and could probably blink away any ill effect at a moment’s notice. Not to mention the impropriety of entering a lady’s chambers at night… with a shake of the head, he resumed his quest for the office.

He didn’t even bother turning on the lights when he stepped onto the old carpet. Grimacing, he dropped into the chair and switched on the computer.

“Let’s see…” he murmured as he pulled up the web browser, “How to make your ejaculate taste good… ten foods guaranteed to…”

He sighed as he reached for a pocket notebook. _ Looks like I’m gonna need to do some more shopping _.

He had barely scribbled a few food items - he winced when he reflected how expensive pineapple was this time of year - when he felt hands gently descend on his shoulders.

“S-Sakura!” he sputtered, turning around to find her eyes fixed on his screen. “I, um… I can explain—”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said, giving him an affectionate smile. “You’re doing this for my sake, after all.”

Heat blossomed in his face, made worse by the reassurance in her voice and the play of her fingers on his tense back. “I mean, uh…” he struggled for a moment, then shrugged in surrender. “Yeah.”

“I’m grateful. But you really don’t have to worry, you know. I love you, just the way you are.”

She laughed as she reached for his hand, giving it an inviting tug. He found himself smiling as he let her pull him up, then back out into the hallway. After a few steps, she glanced back at him, a hint of mischief visible in her expression despite the darkness of the house.

“Although I wouldn’t say no to the occasional breath mint,” she giggled.

“I’ll add it to the list,” he nodded with faux solemnity. Then he paused, looking in the direction of their housemate’s room. “Hey Sakura, since you’re up anyway… maybe you can help put Rider to bed? I was thinking about it, but…”

“That’s a kind thought, Senpai.” She smiled as she pulled him along. “But you don’t need to worry about Rider. I think she’ll be energized tomorrow.”

“Really?” Brows furrowed, he thought about the hard wood she was collapsed on, and the line of bottles. But spirits _ were _very different from humans, and perhaps there was some alchemy here he wasn’t aware of. “Well, okay. You would know best, after all.”

“Oh Senpai, you have no idea,” she giggled.

“Come again?”

“Nothing, nothing. Let’s go back to bed.” Violet eyes gleamed in the gloom. “And I can show you just how much I enjoy _ tasting _you.”

He never did get around to finishing that shopping list.


	6. Soul Eating with the Emiya Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapping a hungry Kishin in your mindscape had _terrible idea_ written all over it. Unfortunately for Shirou, none of his lessons at the Death Weapon Meister Academy seemed to offer an alternative solution. It really was unfortunate that the threads of his soul were already fraying under the strain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many little details align between Fate/Stay Night and Soul Eater that I couldn't resist this crossover bit of crack. Some familiarity with the latter series is advised but perhaps not strictly required, so long as you can swallow people turning into literal weapons.

Shirou stumbled on the jagged shards of the ruined landscape. The world formed from his soul was bleeding, the grinning sun replaced by the ominous crimson of a dying sky. Every instinct, every nerve under his skin screamed to expel the Kishin, before her curse seeped into every crack of his mind. But he couldn't. Not when it meant unleashing her on the Academy, and the world at large.

But that didn't mean his partners had to suffer with him. Taking a deep breath, he stopped and turned to face them, setting his jaw against the questioning looks they shot him.

"Rin, Sakura. Thanks for everything. But this is where we part—"

The hurt in Sakura's eyes closed his mouth with an abrupt snap, even more than the promise of violence in her sister's.

"Senpai," she said, her voice a silk glove over a steel gauntlet. "You'd better not be thinking of sending us away."

"You're an _idiot_, Shirou," seethed Rin from her side. "What exactly were you planning to do without your swords? Monologue her to death?"

Shirou opened his mouth again to protest he would find a way, then found himself smiling instead. His assignment as Meister to the Tohsaka sisters, heirs of one of the Society's most prestigious weapon bloodlines, had been the product of emergency and accident, never meant to last beyond their first battle together. He had expected to lose them to a more suitable handler within the week. But the bond forged between them had held, tested and tempered by strife and joy and hardship. A bond beyond mere friends or lovers.

"Yeah, that's true," he said, his smile broadening into a full on grin. "I guess I have to impose on you both a little longer."

Rin scowled, her finger raised to lecture. "For the last time, it's not imposing when we're your—"

"I know," he interrupted her with a solemn nod. "You two didn't abandon me back then. I should have known you'd stick around now."

And although that should have cut him raw with guilt, he was glad they were here, glad beyond words he wouldn't be facing the nightmare alone.

"Always," said Sakura, her eyes shining with exasperated affection, "and we—"

The words died in her mouth, her eyes narrowing at something over his shoulder. Whirling around, Shirou gaped as spectral arms erupted from the ground. They writhed and hissed through the air like a nestful of serpents, trailing black and purple light as they shot towards him at frightening speed. He tensed, his fists raised to defend himself.

"Shirou!"

Black steel cut through the air in front of him, slicing through the shadows in a dizzying whirl of metal. Sakura's arm was bladed up to her elbow as she threw herself protectively in front of her Meister, glaring down the threat. The rush of wind at his back told him Rin was similarly guarding his flank.

"Tch! These curses feel _disgusting _on my blade_,_" cursed the elder sister, steel whistling in his ears as she cut down more tendrils. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all grab a hot shower. Shirou, see if you can spot the Kishin."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," he said with a heavy swallow, eyes locked on the pale figure striding gracefully towards them.

The woman glowed with the beauty of a goddess, coarse bandages becoming holy robes as they flowed over smooth creamy skin and down long elegant legs. A deity that watched from atop heavenly peaks and reached down benevolently to heal the world below.

But the red eyes blinking from between strands of silky black hair, never sympathized; onlycoveted_._ The ghostly arms slipping from underneath her robes, pouring out to blot the sky like ink spilled over crimson, never succoured; only seized. And the beatific curve of her mouth never brought enlightenment, only corrupted passion and devouring lies.

"Ufufufu." The Kishin's laughter hung silver in the wounded sky. "As adorable as you all are, I have no time to play with you today." She raised a hand coquettishly to her cheek. "I have an engagement I absolutely must keep with Shinigami."

Shirou's jaw tightened. "I won't let you."

"Ahh, did it sound like I was asking?" she said, her smile sharpening. "Please, allow me to disabuse you of that notion."

A wave of her hand sent the ghostly arms raining down like spears of darkness, aimed for his legs, his head, his heart. Bracing himself, he threw out his hands, and felt warmth flood his heart when fingers caught his own.

"Rin, Sakura!"

Their affirmations rang out as they leapt into his hands, now shining falchions of alternating black and white steel. Shirou brought them up just in time to parry the first wave of grasping talons, then threw himself to the side. Darkness whistled above his head as he tumbled and righted himself, breaking into a run.

'_Shirou, go right!' _Sakura called just as an immense fist burst from the rocky terrain and moved to close its rocky fingers over him.

Taking a deep breath, he launched himself up and landed on the tip of its index, scrabbling madly on uneven stone before sliding safely to the other side. When it came for him again, he bisected it in a flash of blades.

"How violent! How exciting!" called the silvery voice, snapping his eyes towards the Kishin even as he dodged another wave of snaking tendrils. Her slender hands clapped appreciatively as she smiled at him. "So full of greed and lust for blood. Mmm, I will truly enjoy eating your souls."

As terrifying as the vertically-slitted monstrous eyes covering her skin were, they didn't hold a candle to the madness dancing in the gold of her human ones. Fear stabbed ice into his heart, held at bay only by the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the solid reassurance of the familiar hilts in his grip.

"How wonderful, ufufu. Pure souls to join the others inside me." The slitted eyes narrowed, as if looking inwards. "I was merely curious when I tasted my first, but the flavour… ahh, heaven and hell dancing in my belly, the nectar of a thousand golden flowers. After that, I knew nothing else would ever satisfy me."

"_Too bad, because all you're getting from us is cold steel! Choke on it and die!" _called Rin from her Meister's left hand, as Shirou used her to slice through the massed hands separating him from his target, slowly gaining ground in the deadly dance between them.

But for all his agility, and the fierce weapons he commanded, it was impossible to dodge them all. He parried the first coiling arm and dodged the next, but the third clamped hard around his shoulder. His clothes burned away under its touch, then agony flared white-hot everywhere it clawed his skin. His muffled scream made his blades shudder in his grip.

"_Shirou!"_

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he pushed forward through the writhing wall reaching for him. More icy fire scored his flank and forearms as the hands he was too slow to dodge or cut down brushed against him, but they couldn't lose here. Not with all the faces waiting for them, all the faces he _needed _to see smile.

"I won't let you out!" he growled as he lunged forward, falchions tearing through the shadows as he closed on her. "I won't let you hurt them!"

Her golden eyes widened, reflecting black and white blades as Shirou brought down his weapons (_friends_) with all his strength, aimed directly between her curved horns. Then, in the split second before impact, she smiled and caught the swords on her palms.

Shock vibrated through Shirou's arms from the abrupt halt, almost tearing Rin and Sakura from his grasp. It was all he could to hold on as he was forced backwards, back towards the hungry shadows crawling behind him.

"Did you think this could hold me? That _you_ could hold me?" said the Kishin, advancing towards him in measured steps. "You can't."

"I will," he gasped as he took to his feet again, and the tendrils pursued. "_We _will. We have to."

"So you can _save_ _everyone_," she said, the mockery all too clear despite her pleasant tone. "And yet you would deny them eternal pleasure in my paradise. Such a _greedy boy_."

A tension in her frame was Shirou's only warning before the Kishin sprang towards him, so fast she was a blur of white. He twisted around just in time to avoid the worst of a strike aimed at his stomach. Her fist still struck him a glancing blow in the side that left him reeling. Had it hit him square on, it would have shattered every last rib.

Wheezing, Shirou barely dodged a savage kick. His enemy's leg flew so close that the torn ribbons of her robes whipped against his cheek. A mere brush, yet it stung his skin like acid.

_It's not like that. It's not wrong to fight for the sake of others. _But the words stayed lodged in his throat, for he had no breath to spare for them.

She seemed to read them on his face anyway, laughing before launching another attack. His blades shook under the force of the assault, his partners' voices grunting in pain as he was forced back, heels scraping against the stone ground.

"Ahh, yes. Such beautiful greed inside you," she purred, the gold of her eyes darkening with an unspeakable hunger that flooded her blows with crushing strength. "So desperate for the gratitude and praise of others, so you can fill the hollow inside."

"I don't care about any of that. So long as I can save— ngh!"

Pain burned his hip where spectral fingers, unnoticed in his desperate struggle with their mistress, closed on it. He cut them away with Rin, but that was all the opening the Kishin needed. Her next blow hit him in the stomach with such force that it sent him flying.

His body skidded painfully against the broken ground before crashing into a jagged outcrop of rock with enough force to knock the breath from him. Panting hard as he struggled to his knees, he heard the whisper of the Kishin's feet on stone, drawing ever closer.

"What a shame you aren't a weapon." With the blood roaring in his ears, Shirou couldn't tell if the disappointment dripping from each word was real or feigned. "You would have swallowed souls until you had the power to shape the world to your wishes."

"_No_." The accusation burned his heart more painfully than any corrupted shadow, and tightened his grip on the sister blades.

Because Shirou _had_ briefly considered such a thing once, when they couldn't track down the hyena witch preying on a village. A single man to serve as bait, then he could cut the threat down and save the rest. Revulsion had washed over him immediately, clung to him for days afterwards.

"No," he said again, anger flooding him with resolve. "I won't sacrifice a few to save more."

"_Not even yourself_." Sakura's voice sounded downright proud as he straightened to his feet.

"Yeah," he nodded, wiping a thin trail of blood and spit from his chin. "We're going to win this fight, and return to the Academy. All three of us."

"_Hah! Looks like we finally got through to the idiot, Sakura."_

"_Neesan!"_ reproached the black blade, though without any heat.

The Kishin's elegant brow furrowed for the shadow of a heartbeat, before returning to its usual serenity. "My goodness, what a lovely sight. But this has gone on quite long enough, and I have countless souls to usher into paradise". Teeth flashed white as she pointed an imperious hand towards them, shadows flying at her command. "Now come!"

Shirou forced himself to swallow down fear and the throbbing pain of his wounds as he whirled around, parrying the appendages in a dance of shining metal. He couldn't afford distraction, not with what he was about to attempt. Soul Resonance was utterly draining on the mind and body. Whether they succeeded or failed, they would be left lying helplessly on the ground afterwards, weak as newborn kittens.

They could not afford to fail. The malevolent curve of the Kishin's smile spoke entire sutras on the subject.

"Rin, Sakura. Don't agree unless you're absolutely—"

'_We're sure, senpai. Even if we don't believe in your dream—which frankly is a bit garbage—"_

"Hey!"

"—_we believe in you. Like you believe in us."_

If Sakura's words touched his heart, they still pricked at his pride. "Oh come on!" He shouted he narrowly ducked under an open-palmed strike. "It isn't wrong to want a world where—"

"_Stop wasting time and align us already!_" growled Rin. _"Let's take this harpy down for good!"_

It took more effort than he liked to successfully disengage from the Kishin's crushing onslaught, earning Shirou scores of bruises and burns. He would be in bad shape when they made it out of here _(and they would make it out, he'd _promised_ them_). But it was worth it when he finally spun around.

"Answer my call!" he yelled, pushing the low hum of his soul's wavelength down through the length of his weapons, touching their souls in turn.

The signal amplified when it returned, joined by little sparks of electricity dancing in red flashes along their metal. Again he pushed it back down and again it returned to him, the vibration growing stronger and stronger, until it pounded in his ears as their souls slid fully into place with each other.

"_Soul Resonance!_" three voices called as one.

Blinding red light flared from the falchions, forcing the shadowy hands momentarily at bay while the blades shifted and grew. Cold metal encased his arms up to his elbows, the familiar weight pressing down on his muscles as the massive arm-blades formed. Energy crackled and hissed along their lengths in ominous red lines.

Shirou didn't wait to see the Kishin's reaction to their transformation. He was already hurtling forward, howling as he fell upon her. One blade pierced her torso while the other ripped through her arm in a spray of blood. Her impaled body slid down towards him, jerking and sparking from the lightning coursing through it.

_We've done it_, he thought in relief, staring as the Kishin's eyes glazed over. _We_—

Then the gold of her irises shone bright, and he knew they had made a terrible mistake.

The Kishin pulled close, sweet breath filling his nostrils as she slid down far enough for her feet to touch ground again. Frantically Shirou tried to yank his arms back, but his weapons were well and truly stuck inside her flesh. Fingers smooth as silk but strong as iron clamped around his neck, throttling the life from him.

"I applaud your effort, your passion," she said, eyes glinting like new coins. "But this ends now."

Distantly he felt his friends fall away from him, resuming their human forms in a desperate bid to give him freedom to move. Bladed arms swung towards the Kishin, only to be caught and dragged away by the spectral limbs. And all the while Shirou was blacking out under that terrible pressure digging into his neck, black spots dancing before his eyes.

"Sadly, I must eat you quickly," said the Kishin as her free hand descended on his head, pulling on the ephemeral threads of his soul. "But don't worry. You'll experience countless passions as you fully sink inside of me."

It _hurt_, but even worse was the terrible sensation of being _drained _and the emptiness consuming him in its wake and his mouth opened in a silent scream—

A sudden blast of power slammed down from the sky, exploding the rock at their feet. The shockwave tore through Meister and Kishin alike, throwing them like ragdolls on the broken stone. His body screamed in agonized protest as he hit the ground hard for the second time in minutes.

"FUHAHAHA!" called a rich masculine voice from high above, brimming with golden arrogance. An irritatingly familiar one. "Witness my power, Artoria! All are as ants before it!"

"Show a little restraint! You could have grievously injured our friends."

Shirou's mouth dropped open as he stared up at the sky. Artoria was resplendent in golden armor, borne on great wings of shining light as she flew— no, scratch that— was violently _pulled _along by the shining gold and red sword in her grip, her knuckles white between the metal plates of the gauntlets.

The sword glowed with light, so searingly bright that Shirou had to shield his eyes, before unleashing a barrage of devastating shots on the Kishin below. Spectral hands burned to ash in that merciless radiance.

"HMPH! I refuse to hold back to protect mongrel skins. The sooner I vanquish this vile weed of Shinigami's—" and if swords could sneer, this one certainly would, "— the sooner we can abscond back to our love nest!"

"_Love nest_?" howled Artoria in disbelief, even as her entire frame shook with her weapon's attacks. "That is far outside the bounds of our agree—"

"Fufu, getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren't we?" interrupted the Kishin, a hint of aggravation in her smile. "While I truly admire your greed, Sword of Heroes, it is but a pale candle to the flame that illuminates me. Witness my power!"

Shadows sprang to life from every crack, every fissure in the ground, forming a new mass of writhing arms and cruel claws. More golden blasts rained down on them, but only caught some of the malignant limbs. Far more spun and weaved around the burning light, trailing darkness as they lunged through the sky after Artoria's radiant figure.

Only to be entirely ignored by the golden sword as it spun in its wielder's hand. "You say that, but I see your body tremble with desire for me! I see the flush of your proud lips, begging for the king's touch!"

"That's just the wind pressure!" snarled Artoria. "Speaking of which, Gilgamesh, please slow—arrrgh!"

Gold streaked through the sky in a complicated set of rolls and figure-eights, uncaringly singing through the black clawing for it. Below, the Kishin was looking more and more irritated as she hurled waves of darkness after them.

"Behold the flight, nay, the love dance of the Sword of Heroes! AHAHAHA!"

Rubble shifted next to Shirou, drawing his eyes from the… _spectacle_, there really was no other word for it… unfolding high above. Sakura and Rin limped the last few metres separating them to collapse by his side.

"She _didn't_," said Rin, wincing as explosions shook the ground under them again. "She did _not_ contract with that Goldie—"

"I think, ah, it's pretty clear she did, Neesan."

"That absolute—god, Artoria, leave the stupid ideas to Shirou! You're supposed to be better than this!"

"Hey!" protested Shirou again. Okay, he knew he sometimes took things a bit far, but all this criticism was seriously starting to eat at his pride.

"Well, he is very powerful—" said Sakura reasonably.

"—and completely insufferable," spat Rin, and that at least Shirou could agree with. "But wait, isn't this Shirou's mindscape? How did they even get in here?"

Hauling himself up to his feet, Shirou cupped his hands and bellowed skyward as his friend streaked by again. She was looking definitely a bit green around the gills. "Artoria! Are you okay?"

Before she could answer, the golden sword yanked itself up between them. "BAKAME! Speak not to the king's chosen in the midst of his courtship! Better yet, don't speak to her at all, you unworthy cur!"

"Courtship?" Shirou's brow furrowed as the golden pair spun madly in the air above him. "Wait, are you guys on a _date_?"

Artoria's face burned in what looked to be a combination of seething rage and embarrassment. "Those were the only terms he would hear! For the good of our people, I had no choice but to accept."

"Oh my, I think you have all forgotten your purpose." The silver of the Kishin's voice was tarnished by indignation, great ugly patches on the mask of careful control. "Then I shall gladly take advantage and devour you all!"

But despite the danger, Shirou's mind was still hung up on the impossibility confronting him. "Yeah, but…" Visions swam before him—Artoria glowering at the Sword of Heroes, slamming her head against the wall as innuendos rained from his lips, hurriedly climbing out windows whenever his armored heels clanged in the hallways. "_You_? Promised him a _date?_"

"Three dates!" crowed Gilgamesh triumphantly. "We shall tarry on the king's ship as it carries us down the river, that we may admire my garden. You shall lovingly feed me grapes and wine from your mouth, adoration in your fair green eyes—"

"Absolutely not!" shouted Artoria, her cheeks a flaming wreck. "I chose my words with care. Dinner and a movie, as is the common parlance."

"That's what I said—"

"ENOUGH!" At the Kishin's enraged shout, a titanic hand burst from the ground in a thunderous roar. It grabbed the flying Meister and weapon as easily as a child snatching a butterfly, engulfing them entirely in its craggy fingers.

"ARTORIA!" Shirou tried to stagger forward, but his limbs felt weak as water. Dizzily he swayed and dropped backwards, and only his partners' arms stopped him from cracking his head open on the rock.

The Kishin pivoted towards them, a satisfied smirk gracing her lips once again. "Ufufufu, see now what happens to those too blinded by pride—"

Light blazed from the closed fist of stone, seeping through the cracks between the giant fingers. Then it burst in a sunflare, burning the trapping hand away in a torrent of fire.

"OLD HAG! You dare interrupt our lovey-dovey moment? A thousand deaths in the boiling pits would be too good for such as you!"

The Kishin visibly recoiled, a stricken look on her face. "Old… old hag?" she gaped, while somewhere at Shirou's side, Rin muttered disbelievingly about '_lovey-dovey_'.

"Look at yourself!" A flash of light, and the golden sword had become a golden man floating above the ground, lifting a protesting Artoria onto his shoulder with careless strength. A sneer twisted his handsome face as he waved a dismissive hand at the Kishin. "Your breasts and hips, the shape of your lips, it's all excess! Far too much excess!"

Met with universal looks of disbelief, he huffed irritably as he ran a hand through his golden hair.

"Your beauty is as vulgar as your greed, coldly designed to please and entice as many as you can. While this!" He swung Artoria in front of him. "This is the feast worthy of only the king! The modest curves, hiding the strength of a lioness! The fierceness of her gaze! The—"

"Gilgamesh?" said Artoria in a very low, very dangerous voice.

He grinned at her. "Yes, my queen?"

A brutal foot was planted in his face. "Stop treating me as your… your plaything!" shouted Artoria. "Argh! This is exactly why no matter how fervently you press your suit, I cannot countenance the sight of you!"

"Stop ignoring me!" screamed the Kishin, tearing at her hair in frustration before rounding on Shirou. "You! This is your fault! You let them in!"

"Yes," he nodded simply.

"But your greed—your wish to be a hero—"

Shirou gently shook his head. "I do want to be a hero. But more than that, I want my friends and family kept safe." He looked up to where Gilgamesh's sword form was blazing through the crimson sky again, dragging the hapless Artoria after him as he almost absent-mindedly rained down more destruction on the shadows below. "I don't have to be the one saving them."

"You—you—" Golden eyes widened in confusion, followed by pain as a blast hit her square in the back. "Why, you uncouth king!" she shouted, her hands throwing out a fresh wave of spectres.

"FUHAHAHA! Fall before my brilliance!"

"Gil, please stop!" came Artoria's pleading voice as the entire mindscape shook under the shockwaves of their battle. "I really am feeling unwell!"

"Aha! You called me Gil!" The Sword of Hero's voice dripped smug satisfaction,

"What—?"

"Soon it will be _my king_, and then _my darling husband_—"

"For the last time, stop ignori— oh, that's IT!" exploded the Kishin, her ribbons thrashing around a face dark with rage. "No passion or paradise for any of you! Burn and shrivel alone, for all I care!"

Shirou's shoulders slumped in exhaustion as the battle raged on, but he was smiling. For all the Kishin's fury, he believed in Artoria's courage—okay, and the Sword of Heroes' raw power, even if that guy was a _jerk_. Just a little bit longer, and he could finally let the mindscape dissolve again, collapse into a warm bed.

"Hey Shirou?" Rin's hand descended on his shoulder. "After all this, I think you owe us dinner."

The vision of bed was cruelly dispelled, but he found himself smiling anyway. Even if he wasn't the hero today, he could still do something for the two people closest to him. And, he had learned over the last months of their lives together, the little things counted for a lot.

"Yeah. I'll cook up a storm once we get home."

"We'll help too," smiled Sakura, then nudged her sister in the side. "Won't we, Neesan?"

Rin looked about to tease further, before her lips quirked up as well. "I suppose so. Light hands make easy work, after all."

"Barbecued beef and grilled vegetables?" asked Shirou, and grinned at the enthusiastic nods he received.

A gasp echoed from high above. "Beef? Shirou, wait. I wish to join you for dinner."

"But Artoria," said Gilgamesh, a hint of petulance in his voice. "Why would you settle for that mongrel's—admittedly adequate—dish, when you could have beef like _this_?"

"_Honestly_, do you not own a shirt—Gil, here she comes again! Sword form, sword form!"

Clouds of spectral ash and wild laughter drifted down from above.

"Can we make miso soup with that?" asked Sakura after a beat.

'Yeah," said Shirou, reaching over to grab both his partners' hands in his own. "Yeah, that sounds great."


End file.
